A time of reflection. Signifies a time a few years back in honour, when my brother died, from his own hands, and my mother a few years before that of Cancer. One reflects now often about one's own life, as much the young innocents who die, the yo
The Seal of Quality committee has rewarded him with 1 seals.
The courage of one (an audio poem by the author)
"A Letter From Tim"
Dear Mother, ---------<<3
In this children's hospice, so humble, a tree
Its limbs, midst pale walls, feign.... erroneous glee
Silver bells, too, quell, like the waking of sea
A star placed above--as we all wished would be
''A kingdom of light where my spirit roams free''
To whom, that day spoke, I knew, then, to me
Christmas, I'll not see, though a heartbeat away
But thank you, dear Ma--adding colours to grey
So cherished are memories, yon Christmas past
No aghast or behest, knowing then, my last
Forever befriends me, yet, fear has no place
For in the arms of angels, I see your face
The saddest word, in ask, is one called regret
So, I simpled the task not to live in its debt
Birdsong, so fleeting, yet, I strive thus to hear
Such seasonal greetings, so vibrant and clear
My friends, too, time borrowed, yet, paths blossom well
They'll sing a tomorrow, let joy in them dwell
For you, dear Mamma, a stem of mistletoe
Wrapped neath my pillow, with a kiss... bestow
A big hug to Grandpa; nine years in disguise
His red Santa's outfit midst loud 'Ho, Ho' cries
Life's simple pleasures, much more when they're less
Berries of the Holly, or a snowflake's caress
As now, if you read, means I've crossed fallow field
Like the end of a chapter, the ones read, concealed
Merry Christmas, Ma
...I love you,
Signed Little Tim ---------<<3
Lest we forget the reasons for Christmas.
So with all, the fallen shall birth anew
... somehow, some day.
Souls of children live on,
and should you listen carefully,
this Holy Night,
a choir you may hear,
and, you, shall rejoice,
for good tidings bring,
as when they sing.
Was it not once said;
''Suffer the little children...come unto me?''
Then let it be known that they who once suffered,
unable to reap all that is life,
shall again smile with kin;
without pain... love in heart
....too, angel voices.
...sonorous the sound
I have just seen today 20th Jan that Janet7053 has placed promotion dollars on this post. I wish to publicly say thank you, for heart breeds heart, and I have no words except to say, let us support her work as she has found heart in the awareness of all the little Tims. Thank you Janet7053...on behalf of myself as well all those less fortunate.
Thank you also 'Sweet Linda' who later also added. I have little words..such grattitude I can oly express with sharing your kindness. Thank you for the support.
I lost my brother to Cot Death, an epidemic rife in England back then that would strike down infants , predominantly up to 18 months old; he was nine months old. His name was Terrence. I was baby-sitting him, being the oldest of my other brother and sister. My mother went up the road to the betting shop to find my father. I have never spoken about this until now. I was 9 years old, but, please, I need no sympathy for I knew little, my mother had to deal with much pain...as well all questions I was asked before they knew the cause. PVC mattresses were since outlawed for children as part cause.This write is not about me, neither sympathy or mitigation for this entry. I write in hope of one thing, and one thing only, for I could have written a number of other themes. Perhaps in hope that there could be a little variation in ones Christmas this year... in the way of something unexpected.
You see! I accidentally came across an article when trying to log into my email, followed by more articles, and it spoke of loved ones that passed on, on and around Christmas time, as well as other times...who left messages and letters (joyous, happy, motivational and life changing) to loved ones still living. The messages were of courage and beauty, even knowing they would die. Some even entrusted to be read out up to two years after they had died. This touched me beyond compare. Make this a joyous Christmas by deed...if plus one extra deed only...a little time, one hour, one day, one minute , whatever it takes to do something out of the ordinary for somebody with much less: A children's hospital, Hospice, old peoples home...a greeting could be all that it takes, a present, if can. Somebody you have not spoken to in years, through anger, through pride. Poems are not meant to be used to orchestrate change, but can be a conscience, a thought, and if a thought results in action, so be it.
Also In my thoughts, our friend and author here, Unspoken94, who many times must go through such emotions with the messages and memories left behind as working so closely with Hospice and the terminally ill.
Let us celebrate the bravery of the children, some knowing, some not, but the outcome inevitable, for there are some very brave souls out there...this is a celebration of their lives and the bravery of understanding that someone else will have where they will not, but give all in wishing happiness for those still here. This write is not for sorrow, for it is a time of happiness and greetings, so should any tears be spent , spend them in happiness for the happiness you have just given, so by, receiving yourself. That is the true spirit of Christmas. If these wonderful individuals could bring such joy to so many in death, why then can we not bring happiness to others in life? That is my wish and the purpose of this write...this Christmas.
And if this write engages thought in orchestrating one special effort, known to you, then it has been successful in its creation... a Merry Christmas, not just for me and others touched, but also for you... and the joy of knowing.
Merry Christmas all. There are many little Tims that have passed and many still yet to. Let us honor with life and a celebration of life, those passed, and too, give greetings to those who have yet to... and so doing, spare a thought for the real reason for Christmas.
Image= A birth, midwife Salome Cappella Degli depicting life
Music = Peder B. Helland. Christmas songs
Choir = excerpt
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