What is on my mind,in my heart or out there

(Why I write of things so painfull)
To say the unsayable,to define through words and tears true human events, connects us all. The speaker is forced to make real the nightmare.And the listener is given the opportunity to hear ~ a moment of grace.A miracle of divne economics.

I am aware of your inability to stand near me now
Either outcome requires something from you.

To anchor you further in your ill world view
Or
Challenge you to face the inconceivable.


My blood splattering you or my angel feather tickling you.

I desire knowledge now
So call me verbs, think small common things--
protect yourself.

When you can afford memories, another time, another life
Remember me Remember grace

May the wind be at your back, the path downhill

D. Acosta 2005 Protected

I had thought of us as "us",after seven years.Ups and downs mostly his..then one day just like that he was gone,unable to deal with feeling~my Marine who had said I was strong enough to be a Marine. Do not let the "enemy" know :the secret weapon is to get them to care....perhaps just him,but I wonder if the cost of shuting ones self down while in war results in this..

I meant not to start on such a dark note,really I can laugh again,but last night this was given to me and I awoke needing to release it......
The obituaries always end alike with those left referring to the day when they will greet their loved one again ..I want so to take heart and believe. But the chill of what if , even then, somehow in Its unknown ways, Yours was found lacking? Wanting of essential goodness? Worthy of damnation?…….

Last nights nightmare was set in a flat desolate landscape, dry dusty desert like. Along one edge was a gentle slope that rose, tunneled with magma flows, above and below, into majestic mountains. About the middle of the peaks were three that had, tops blown off long ago, pipes of steam occasional flame, surrounded by nine smaller ones. We had stopped at a gas station. I am listening to how finally the park is going to be cleaned up, the piles of ash removed, as I hear moaning ..it is my eldest I know hidden on the trail to the peaks. I scream to those with me to help, they seem not to hear or care. I begin to run to him the sounds of his cries raking at my heart my soul. A knot of tourists hides the view, but as they mill about I glimpse him, his hair is burned, the white shirt is charred, smoke rise’s from him. I know he will live but already his pain course’s thru me as if it is my own.

So this is my truth if this is a foreshadowing ,if this nightmare becomes everlasting knowledge…I will love It unconditionally but after brief worship of Creator I could not forgive Its abandonment of one. I would chose to wander alone without love, as I do here now in this world. I have known love here and if it is true as claimed that It loves us no Love would condemn even Its abominations to such despair. I could not forgive and would stand in gentle eternal rebuke. Not a cast out angel, or one who would be yang to Its yin, but simply a Mothers Love .