RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Smashed, the eyesight of my seeing.
Cracked in many places, crawling like a spider web across my eyes.
Once knowledge stood out in the open, now it lies back, pleading for obscurity.
Separating ideas, fragmented from within, tell-tale signs of curiosity are forbidden from certain points of view.
...

Clouds piled thick in my mind -
floating lightly over thoughts which are tucked safely inside.
Waiting patiently in the lobby of distant ideas, time creeps
by as frozen sheets of ice thicken - turning everything into
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Tossing down balls of math onto patios of
resourcefulness.
Testing mercurial distances on verges of
a certain timelessness, again watching
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Seeing the love you have for your daughter, it is beautiful,
memorialized in many crystal tears.

Your daughter was very lucky to have a Mom like you, always
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Walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers, tears hanging from her eyes, a sadness emanating from her soul.
How I wish I could reach out, hug her, tell her I'm alright, that I still love her; but the silence of death lies between us.
Carefully making her way, making sure not to step on any other's grave, coming upon mine, kneeling, saying a prayer for me as she places her bouquet in the little holder.
Eyes totally misted over, everything's a little blurry; cleaning off my headstone, touching it so gently as if I am a part of it and she doesn't want to hurt me.
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Hug me like it's the last time you will hug me.
Melt your love into my heart and mind forever.
Imprint it onto my soul, so no matter how far we are
from each other, we will find one another again in
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Life is constantly changing and rearranging itself
to suit a higher purpose.
We think we're in control, in reality we're not.
Our futures are planned to an iota of a nanosecond,
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Changing cycles, ending where I should've begun, standing now on shoulders of death, living life shortly in measured breaths.
Yesterday's have slipped downhill into a cemetery hole, while hopes of dreams, longing and yearning have quietly crept outdoors.
Knowing there's not enough time to do good in this world, yet praying that I've done enough in my short life to please our Lord.
Taking steps, gently, towards earth's horizon, knowing soon, I'll be living beyond this mortal world.
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Tender, fragile petal of life I am of late.
Sensitive to a fault, wavering on the brink of death.
Delicate and gentle, unafraid, yet ready to become
unknown in this life.
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Nervous anticipation quivering with the unknown frailty
of life's borders.
Keeping watch, seeing shadows float by, gently touching
memories of a past universe.
...