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Tag Archives: Mother

Learning to Lose Love

LoyaltyThe Loyalty Firm 2Never let anyone diminish youLearning to Lose Love

To delve through this heap of trash piled high before my eyes

From the cold dark black reaper who brought down our blameless lives

How could I have borne his children? Played the virulent role of wife?

Those I loved and raised through sunshine and tears

Carried in my body nine months; love endlessly through years

Tried to mull through all the mire; should have left once more than many times

But you love(d) him so it seemed no matter what or why

You have no conception of the countless nights I cried… and died

Survival often times dictates that we create our own reality

And you live yours as I do mine… and for me it’s desolate right now

Since my very soul, it bleeds.

For I am a person of flesh, blood and bones, no validation needed, I am me and me I own.

But words defy how icy cold I feel to be me standing endlessly alone.

And I don’t have to agree with your philosophies, principles or how you live your life

I discern you are you and though I feel it is unequivocally fundamental to have been loyal and true

I will never beg for the same gifts of trust, respect and loyalty from a superfluous you.

I won’t ask those things of anyone but I know what’s right for me

And degradation and betrayal choke my life-blood, currently to an insurmountable degree.

And it will do the same to you because, as you will someday see

Perhaps long after I’ve departed from your life, maybe for eternity

You have blamed, berated, and slandered me for every adversity in your life

I’ve allowed you to smash me down to nobody and worship the “powers” that you perceive to “be”.

And for those insolent trivial persons you bashed in my skull and left me here to bleed

Only when karma comes around to you will you wake up and see the deed

And it’s all so dirty, not so pretty, so I’ll remove myself and hold my peaceful solid ground

And I’ll stand for what I believe; and care not a scrap for the (crap) that they fling around.

Because words cut deep for a little while and indifference prickles my heart

But disloyalty can never be quite ever squared for it breaks the foundation of unconditional love

Without which we all crumble around into the sacred ground that used to house our hearts.

Sharon Lynn Van Meter

Copyright May 22, 2013

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Take My Breath Away

Gravity battles centrifugal force as she maneuvers the small sports car around the sharp curve in the road. The speedometer tops 110 miles per hour as her foot grinds the gas pedal even further into the floor. But her mind is moving even faster than the car; scattered thoughts twirl like a hurricane inside her brain. The tiny beads of perspiration which cover her forehead belie the chill of tiny goose bumps rising on her arms. Her antenna is attuned to every little nuance inside of the automobile although the eerie unattached feeling which is insidiously engulfing her mind invokes an atmosphere of surrealism. She stares blankly ahead, eyes unflinching, with only one sentence turning over and over in her mind; “Please God, let him be alright.”

 

“Mrs. Rhoades, your son has been involved in an accident.” The sinister words cut through the numb chant, threatening to break her frozen resolve. Her pulse was racing as she anxiously anticipated the words that would follow. “Thrown from his motorcycle…” Her knuckles had turned blue as her fingers clutched the phone tighter, waiting. “…critical condition…”  Those words had ground her world slowly to a halt, her oblivious co-workers had suddenly seemed to freeze: the sounds of the keyboards tap, tap, tap… the ringing of the phones, the buzzing of the voices.  All faded into a sluggish distant groan, somewhere faraway. “MercyHospital Emergency Room,” the unattached voice on the other end echoed.

 

Where is her coat? She glances briefly around the interior of the car, not finding it. However she is thankful for the brief momentary diversion of sweet normalcy in her thoughts. At least she has her presence of mind. Her brain is still functioning. Breathe deeply, in and out.  Just breathe. Minutes drag like eternity as she circles the parking lot searching desperately for a parking space. As she plunges the car into an empty space she comes too near to the car in the next space and cannot open her door. She thrusts the gear switch forward into park and her fist accidentally hits the radio button.

 

Jessica Simpson blares out “Take my breath away”, literally taking her breath away as she is taken aback to another night nearly eighteen years ago when Berlin sang that same song; it was the night that her son was conceived. She was powerless to the seductively exotic demeanor and captivating dark looks of the Spanish pre-med student. Three months of breathless romance had left her temporarily oblivious to her fiancé, who was off at N.Y.U. Her mind races over that night as she jams the car into reverse and then propels it back into the empty parking space. She is momentarily haunted by the deep brown eyes which her son inherited along with the small sexy mole on his right cheek, in almost the same identical spot as his father’s.

 

She feels she is going crazy as she allows the words to shroud her “Turning and returning to some secret place inside.” Two enchanting weeks later, her fiancé’ had returned and she ended the affair. She had married, moved to New York with Randy and had never seen her Latin lover again. Guilt had prevented her from revealing to him that he had a son, and guilt had in turn eaten her alive like a cancer for the rest of her life. But how could she have told him? She had felt obligated to Randy; after all they had been high school sweethearts. She had never again seen the man who had taught her the meaning of true love. She had heard that he had went on to become a very successful surgeon or something…Her thoughts jerk back to the present hellish nightmare as she turns off the ignition, terminating the song as well as her brief sojourn into the past.

 

 The harsh yet mysteriously comforting sterile smells of alcohol and iodine hit her sharply in the face and seem to swallow her up as she rushes into the hospital emergency room; That’s just a front, she thinks fleetingly. That intense smell merely covers up the real smells of sickness and …She shakes her head fiercely, pushing the dreaded word resolutely from her mind. No. God, please let him be alright. Please. Please. Please. She repeats for the millionth time.

 

“May I help you?” a stiff elderly nurse inquires.

 

Yes, they called me. My son was brought in. Trevor Rhoades,” her shaky voice sounds strangely foreign, as if it belongs to someone else.

 

The nurse’s face seems to soften knowingly at the sound of the name, the corners of her lined mouth turning down in a feeble attempt at a smile. “Yes we have him. Are you alone, dear?” Her voice is suddenly like melted butter which is somehow ominous. ‘Oh no, she is trying to prepare me for the worst.’, Rachel thinks.

 

“Where is he? Can I see him?” She breathlessly pushes past the nurse, who grabs Rachel’s arm in a firm grip, a contradiction to the old woman’s frail looking demeanor.

 

“Hold on, honey. Is there no one else with you?” Rachel shakes her head. “Maybe you’d like to wait for your husband…?”

 

“My husband and I are divorced.” She hears the anger in her voice, knowing not where it comes from, “He is in New York. My son and I just moved back…” Her voice breaks helplessly, “Please, I have to see my son. Where is he?” She looks searchingly past the older woman down the long white and black checkered corridor surrounded by doors on either side, some closed and others slightly ajar. She hears faint moaning and muffled crying from behind those knowing doors, sounds of pain and fear.

 

“Come along, then. The Doctor is with him now and they are preparing him for surgery.” She speaks in the rapid tone of a seasoned nurse who has become a professional at combating time and fate. “I’m afraid he has suffered a traumatic head injury …” She pauses as she pushes the magical button on the wall which swings open the huge intimidating double doors. “He is in intensive care, right this way. Doctor Rodriguez will explain to you more. He is the surgeon who is going to operate on your son.”

 

“Operate?” She echoes feebly, her mind attempting to register this rapid onslaught of information. But, even before she has time to think or speak, the nurse has opened the door to a glaringly white room and she follows her inside. She blinks at the extreme brightness as she enters the room and her pulse races as her eyes land on the outline of her son lying on a stretcher in the middle of the room. There are doctors and nurses in white all around him along with numerous tubes and massive machines.

 

Before she can make her way across the floor to her son, a tall dark man steps in front of her, blocking her view, and extends his latex-gloved hand. “Hello, Mrs. Rhoades. I am Dr. Rodriguez, head of neurosurgery. Before you see your son, I would just like to assure you that he is in the best of hands and we will do everything possible for him. He is in critical condition and it is imperative that we operate as soon as possible.” His familiar enunciation sends shivers up her spine and she abruptly looks up at the doctor, forcing herself to speak.

 

“But, what happened? They said he was in an accident…is he going to be alright?” Her voice becomes strangled by the lump in her throat. She gazes into the dark brown eyes and seizes the instant flicker of recognition. Her eyes travel down the right side of his cheek to rest on the small dark mole. The trembling inside of her now has taken control of all of her muscles, and she begins to visibly shake from head to toe. The room starts to spin like a merry-go-round and she cannot seem to catch her breath, which is like dry sand cutting through her throat. The words turn round and round in her mind “Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say ‘Take my breath away’…”

 

“My son…you don’t understand…” she sobs breathlessly, as she falls helplessly into him, her hot tears against his white coat. Her voice whispers hoarsely into his ear “Enrique”…the name somehow rolls off of her parched tongue. She looks up into his searching dark eyes, pleading “Please save my son…”

 

His strong hands gently grasp her body to him in a long ago familiarity that defies the hands of time. “I understand,” he says evenly in a voice meant only for her ears. “Rachel, I know,” his deep voice soothingly strokes her.

 

Their eyes lock in a knowing embrace; words are no longer necessary. The nauseating feeling is replaced by a warm and downy cloud as she spirals into sublime oblivion in his exonerating arms, the words wrapping around her soul;

Never hesitating to become the fated ones…

Through the hourglass I saw you,

In time you slipped away.

When the mirror crashed I called you,

And turned to hear you say

‘If only for today I am unafraid’…

Take my breath away…

Sharon Lynn Van Meter

Copyright 2004

 

 

 


Angels

The eye of the tiger,the bite of the shark, the gnashing of teeth from sweet evil embark

And vacant eyes stare in utter repose so beautiful yet so unaware

Of the years that were lost and the tears that it cost to be both mommy and daddy personified

Elegant tables of white linen and lace laid out in the sun of a glass chandelier

A dark handsome stranger whose name slips her mind as so many before in the blinding stale paleness

Of a one-night boudoir in the still of the night…She gave her heart once more [To the father she adored?]

The man who would make it alright…The children and wife, the whole other life

….Too late revealed, naked and torn… she gave the devil her soul and the lay of the land

Comes round her way, the moon in her eyes, the curve of her neck as the henchman awaits

In the dark alley of souls piled sky-high on the mountain and laid low in the back of her mind

Swinging and singing ‘Rock a Bye Baby‘ tonight in your arms I lie down

The dress in the attic stored away with her soul, the time on her face can’t detract or erase

All the beauty within and the innocence of the angel who lies in her arms

The next generation sprung from her loins one she buried that year-long ago; chin up

Tears merge into memories… No you don’t have a grandpa; But you have a nana  and you have a mama

Who is come to life to be a chameleon at fate’s destiny and the lady smiles gracefully for the lady she dreams

In the stillness of nights and the shrieks and the screams and the tears and the pain the eye of the tiger

The moan of the train and the gnashing of teeth and the wisdom she brings will protect her offspring

For all generations to come from de jay vu of the deadbeat daddy (s) who will never hurt this child or her mother

(The daughters she loves more than life), Linens and lace and a glass chandelier, A dark handsome prince

Will come riding my love, Will come riding my love,

Hush and you’ll hear with your heart, I do swear…

I am the whimsical flower child whose eyes have seen all, And whose heart overflows in utter repose in the lines

Of her smile… a lone tear flows down, She’ll move heaven and earth to vehemently end the recycled abuse,

My darling granddaughters, I had high hopes for your mothers and there is no glass slipper

Unless you design it yourself  so lie back and smile In utter repose; for I am your grandmother [and mama]

And I am your Grandpa [and daddy]…for he took leave a long time ago

And fairy-tale princes are paupers and toads may well emerge into kings

So be strong and be proud and scream long and scream loud for you are beautiful inside and out;

And no insolent lover or absentee daddy or male shark in life’s murky waters

Need validate -or dishonor- this truth which I bequeath to you now—so listen intently and hold tight all your days

You are worth all the gold in this harsh barren land, You are smart and witty and cunning and pretty

And more masculine minded than any red-blooded man; You are equal… not less, you are proper and fine

Your heart is as strong as your mind… you are honest and deserving, My sweet baby child; You are quick and unnerving

You are centered and mild, And you run all your life with the wild– You will face heartache and pain but are blessed with a strength

Which no man can decrease or erase and you will easily stand on your own.

For your legacy here is foretold… the courageous women whose blood flows like fire through your veins:

Honesty, honor, respect and pride; These are virtues of which you can firmly take hold

So dream all your dreams but first and foremost be true to yourself–you are a jewel of perfection

With lovely sparkles of flaws,You are so deeply loved, So remember my lady when you sharpen your claws

And you steel for your prey-be steady and strong and be true; be all that you must, there is no right or wrong,

In the end to your own self be true…And through all of the sweetness and gnashing and tears and the lace and the leather

And puppy dog tears and fairy tale princes and rivals and freaks and oceans so big that they drown out your shrieks

And love so colossal a single breath you can’t find and walls with no windows hide life’s torrential rains

as sweet cherub faces swallow up all your pain and all the “I love you’s’, scuffles and sniffles and screaming and sighs

And warm summer breezes and freezing goodbyes…And as spring turns to autumn and winter looms; stark and white

Just remember you’re a lady and woman and child and you’ll always be loved and you’ll always be mine…

Every end’s a beginning and every beginning, an end; And the struggles and strife are soft angel wing snuggles that will always engulf

And surround you within from the first golden smile indelibly carved in my heart, I shall hold you forever and ever again,

you incredibly swallow my heart, so fall down and pray and thank God, yes, thank God,  all the days of your life…

Sharon Lynn Van Meter

Copyright 2012


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