Repressing a Childhood

 

childhood

Repressing Childhood

Chasing pastels trying to make the most of today before it slips into yesterday. Darkness is riding my ass. One less day becomes one less day wanting to remember the names of a lovely pastel. And one more night, bearing its shadows is one less night of subduing shadows. Then, as night finally slips into yesterday, and dawn makes her debut into a palette of pastels I can live with, I press them one by one in between the pages of my journal.

preservation
the unconscious mind
dried flowers

 

©2017 All Rights Reserved – Sheri L. Prielipp-Falzone

 

Reflections: A Mother’s Journal

The sights and sounds of spring always bring to my mind mothers and children. And as the days led up to Mother’s Day, my daily journal reflected on my childhood, my mother, my childhood and being a mother too.

5/5/2017

as they grew
the Lord took her hand
she blossomed too

5/6/2017

tangled roots
buried in childhood
tripping me

5/7/2017

how the grow
lilies of the field
yellow bus

5/8/2017

barbed wire
her spoken prayers
the sparrow

5/9/2017

a tether
between young and old
mother’s will

5/10/2017

how are you
she hears something else
my mother

5/11/2017

my first nurse
without a degree
mother’s love

5/12/2017

wiped with
a downy feather
mother’s tear

left behind
echoes of their song
empty nest

The rooftop
Singing her prayers
The sparrow

5/13/2017

used to be
silence was golden
empty nest

5/14/2017

vibrant hues
a floral bouquet
mother’s pride

Mother's Day