Wrap me in your arms

For I have sinned

Wrap me in your arms

until I forget to think

Keep me close

until I heal

Whisper you love me

When I can’t love myself

Hold me tight

Put my pieces back together

Your love in the night

Is what keeps me

From wandering forever

I don’t want to lose you

Please find me

So I never get lost again

Wrap your arms around me

Promise to never let me go

I may not make it

But I will always try

Without you

There will be no I

The desolate chill numbed my soul

A winter like no other pressed me to the edge

Recoiling in horror at the heart I once knew

A stranger lived in my head

Someone I never knew existed

Pushing me closer and closer to the jagged, icy crevice

Silently stepping off solid ground into the void

Broken wings flailing at the laughing air

As I tumbled through the emptiness

//////////

Swallowing me up

with unthought words

I would have cut my heart out

And traded it for a bit of peace

Barely clinging to myself

Fears, delights, anxious nights

Scratching at the door of my mind

Begging for entrance as I pushed back

Against the frigid winds

That threatened the life I loved

////////

Spring breezes have melted the icicles that gripped me

Softly sweeping away the gray snow that blinded me

Bringing me home to myself

Letting me breathe again

Letting me feel again

Buds on the trees remind me

I survived

I made it though

This Winter of unbearable discontent

About twenty years ago I developed a severe blood infection. My husband had just flown out to California for his company, leaving me at home with our two teenage kids in Upstate New York. I had spent the night with Bob in a hotel near the airport for a proper goodbye, as he was to be gone for a month.

Already feeling sick and dizzy, I drove home from the airport hotel and made an appointment with my local doctor to find out if I had a kidney infection. The doctor took me right away and the NP who examined me held my urine sample up to the light and said, "Pfft. Looks fine to me. You're just fat. Lose some weight." She did, however, prescribe a mild antibiotic to be picked up on my way home.

I almost fell off the examining table as I tried to get up. The dizziness was so intense I don't know how this educated professional didn't notice that her patient was getting ready to pass out on her clean, white tile floor. She dismissed me with an annoyed wave of her hand and I wobbled out to my car. With black spots dancing before my eyes, I tried to insert the key into the ignition. After several unsuccessful tries the vehicle purred to life and I zig-zagged my way to the drug store and the five miles home.

Thankfully, my nine-teen-year-old son was home at the time when the antibiotic pill my NP had prescribed came back up all over my bedroom floor. Nothing would stay down, water, kool-aid, or Jello, nothing. I became worried about getting dehydrated, so I asked my son to drive me to the emergency room in the next town, so they could put an IV in me.

That's when he became concerned and called my husband to tell him I had asked for a needle to be stuck in my arm. Things had just gotten serious. I was terrified of needles and generally ran out of the doctors' offices when presented with that option, in any form. This began a chain of supernatural events on opposite edges of our continent.

I remember hanging my head out of the window on my side of the car, like a happy puppy with tongue lolling, as we drove the ten miles to the hospital. When we arrived at the waiting room of the emergency room I promptly passed out. Fortunately, no one else was injured but it sure got their attention. I was immediately tossed into a wheelchair and rolled to an examining room where I got my fondest wish, an IV needle was slipped into a vein in my hand and I passed out again.

How they did it was a mystery to me but they got a urine sample without my help and then took a blood sample, also without my help. As it turned out I had a severe kidney infection that had spread to my bloodstream. They added Cipro and another strong antibiotic to my IV bag. For the rest of that day, I was in and out of consciousness, waking up only when a nurse would come by to check my pulse and peel back my eyelids.

By that evening I was shivering and begging for more blankets but the monsters denied my request and instead began laying ice packs on my chest. Thanks a lot.

Meanwhile, on the West Coast, my husband was trying to weave his way in and out of Los Angeles traffic to find the airport. Being totally out of his element it was a miracle he found the place. Not having a pre-purchased ticket presented another problem for him after he finally reached the terminal.

Miraculously, a disheveled, older gentleman appeared at my husband's shoulder and asked if he needed assistance. Oh, boy, did he ever! Bob explained that he had just arrived in LA the day before on a business trip when his son called to tell him his wife had been rushed to the hospital and was in critical condition. He had to get home to Upstate New York quickly as possible. His "Angel" in a wrinkled shirt and tie pushed him past the line of irritated passengers with tickets and demanded room be made on a plane for this man.

Somehow, this paunchy, old fellow with gray hair sticking out all over his head wielded some sort of power at the ticket counter, because shortly after he had pushed Bob through the line, they were running down the moving walkway together to board a plane that was being held for an emergency passenger, my husband. He had to carry on all his luggage because there was no time left to check it. After depositing my husband at the correct gate the Angel simply disappeared. Bob didn't see him leave and couldn't see where he was headed after dropping him off. He just credited God with providing an unlikely angel when he needed one, shook his head, and boarded the plane.

While my husband was flying toward me I was lying in bed imagining music being played all night. Every so often I could hear the melodies and lines from "Isn't She Lovely", and "What a Wonderful World", drifting ethereally into my ears. Over and over again, all night long these magical tunes kept me from drifting away as I concentrated on their lyrics to hold spirit to body.

At some point during that night a film reel began playing in my mind, sort of hovering over my fevered body. I saw arguments with my little sister and saw myself making attempts to mend fences with her. I saw the son I had given up for adoption, all grown up, approaching me in a fog, with arms outstretched. The birth of my second son and my daughter were playing in the frames with my husband running alongside the hospital gurney, holding my hand in his. Bit by bit my life unfolded in clearly defined movie frames above my head, pulling a torrent of tears from my eyes.

I drifted further into the in-between world, teetering between taking another breath or giving up. The space only the nearly dead are familiar with. A peace came over me as I realized nothing I could do would change the outcome of that night. Something that had escaped me during my short time on Earth up until that point. All life was in God's hands. We can't control the next day, hour, or minute of our lives and I heard God's voice clearly say, "Rest. I'm in charge," and I fell into His hands, grateful for his presence.

When I awoke the next morning the fever had subsided to a mere 103 degrees and my husband, weary and red-faced, was sitting near my bed with my hand in his, tears staining his face. I had survived. He had survived. We both made it with a little help from God and his rumpled Airport angel.

Oh, and the music I thought I imagined in my delusions? They had put me in the maternity ward and every time a girl was born they played, "Isn't She Lovely", and when a boy was born they played, "It's a Wonderful World". Apparently, more people arrived in the world that night than left it.

About twenty years ago I developed a severe blood infection. My husband had just flown out to California for his company, leaving me at home with our two teenage kids in Upstate New York. I had spent the night with Bob in a hotel near the airport for a proper goodbye, as he was to be gone for a month.

Already feeling sick and dizzy, I drove home from the airport hotel and made an appointment with my local doctor to find out if I had a kidney infection. The doctor took me right away and the NP who examined me held my urine sample up to the light and said, "Pfft. Looks fine to me. You're just fat. Lose some weight." She did, however, prescribe a mild antibiotic to be picked up on my way home.

I almost fell off the examining table as I tried to get up. The dizziness was so intense I don't know how this educated professional didn't notice that her patient was getting ready to pass out on her clean, white tile floor. She dismissed me with an annoyed wave of her hand and I wobbled out to my car. With black spots dancing before my eyes, I tried to insert the key into the ignition. After several unsuccessful tries the vehicle purred to life and I zig-zagged my way to the drug store and the five miles home.

Thankfully, my nine-teen-year-old son was home at the time when the antibiotic pill my NP had prescribed came back up all over my bedroom floor. Nothing would stay down, water, kool-aid, or Jello, nothing. I became worried about getting dehydrated, so I asked my son to drive me to the emergency room in the next town, so they could put an IV in me.

That's when he became concerned and called my husband to tell him I had asked for a needle to be stuck in my arm. Things had just gotten serious. I was terrified of needles and generally ran out of the doctors' offices when presented with that option, in any form. This began a chain of supernatural events on opposite edges of our continent.

I remember hanging my head out of the window on my side of the car, like a happy puppy with tongue lolling, as we drove the ten miles to the hospital. When we arrived at the waiting room of the emergency room I promptly passed out. Fortunately, no one else was injured but it sure got their attention. I was immediately tossed into a wheelchair and rolled to an examining room where I got my fondest wish, an IV needle was slipped into a vein in my hand and I passed out again.

How they did it was a mystery to me but they got a urine sample without my help and then took a blood sample, also without my help. As it turned out I had a severe kidney infection that had spread to my bloodstream. They added Cipro and another strong antibiotic to my IV bag. For the rest of that day, I was in and out of consciousness, waking up only when a nurse would come by to check my pulse and peel back my eyelids.

By that evening I was shivering and begging for more blankets but the monsters denied my request and instead began laying ice packs on my chest. Thanks a lot.

Meanwhile, on the West Coast, my husband was trying to weave his way in and out of Los Angeles traffic to find the airport. Being totally out of his element it was a miracle he found the place. Not having a pre-purchased ticket presented another problem for him after he finally reached the terminal.

Somehow a disheveled, older gentleman appeared at my husband's shoulder and asked if he needed assistance. Oh, boy, did he ever! Bob explained that he had just arrived in LA the day before on a business trip when his son called to tell him his wife had been rushed to the hospital and was in critical condition. He had to get home to Upstate New York quickly as possible. His "Angel" in a wrinkled shirt and tie pushed him past the line of irritated passengers with tickets and demanded room be made on a plane for this man.

Somehow, this paunchy, old fellow with gray hair sticking out all over his head wielded some sort of power at the ticket counter, because shortly after he had pushed Bob through the line, they were running down the moving walkway together to board a plane that was being held for an emergency passenger, my husband. He had to carry on all his luggage because there was no time left to check it. After depositing my husband at the correct gate the Angel simply disappeared. Bob didn't see him leave and couldn't see where he was headed after dropping him off. He just credited God with providing an unlikely angel when he needed one, shook his head, and boarded the plane.

While my husband was flying toward me I was lying in bed imagining music being played all night. Every so often I could hear the melodies and lines from "Isn't She Lovely", and "What a Wonderful World", drifting ethereally into my ears. Over and over again, all night long these magical tunes kept me from drifting away as I concentrated on their lyrics to hold spirit to body.

At some point during that night a film reel began playing in my mind, sort of hovering over my fevered body. I saw arguments with my little sister and saw myself making attempts to mend fences with her. I saw the son I had given up for adoption, all grown up, approaching me in a fog, with arms outstretched. The birth of my second son and my daughter were playing in the frames with my husband running alongside the hospital gurney, holding my hand in his. Bit by bit my life unfolded in clearly defined movie frames above my head, pulling a torrent of tears from my eyes.

I drifted further into the in-between world, teetering between taking another breath or giving up. The space only the nearly dead are familiar with. A peace came over me as I realized nothing I could do would change the outcome of that night. Something that had escaped me during my short time on Earth up until that point. All life was in God's hands. We can't control the next day, hour, or minute of our lives and I heard God's voice clearly say, "Rest. I'm in charge," and I fell into His hands, grateful for his presence.

When I awoke the next morning the fever had subsided to a mere 103 degrees and my husband, weary and red-faced, was sitting near my bed with my hand in his, tears staining his face. I had survived. He had survived. We both made it with a little help from God and his rumpled Airport angel.

Oh, and the music I thought I imagined in my delusions? They had put me in the maternity ward and every time a girl was born they played, "Isn't She Lovely", and when a boy was born they played, "It's a Wonderful World". Apparently, more people arrived in the world that night than left it.

Dance until your soul feels free and at peace

It doesn't matter whether you're nine or ninety-one

Stepping lively or just tapping feet

The restless tempo can pull you out of your grief

Raise the roof or just raise your arms

Aching hearts mend with each new melody played

Crush the hurt, ignore the pain, embrace the rhythm

Time to whirl and twirl and kick the devil out of your way

In the end, you'll be left breathless and exhilarated

On the way to healing, forgetting the wounds cut so deeply

Never forget the regal power of movement and the music

Lone sentinel of the deep, perched above the crashing sea

Opal scales, sea grass hair, mossy arms outstretched

Eyes reflecting the color of the hazy sky

Changing, ever-changing with the tide

Ocean Gypsy wails her siren song

Seducing scores of weary sailors through the ages

As they search for safe haven from the storm

Her tragic melody calls them to rest

In the security of her calm, moonlit pool

Just beyond the shattering rocks

Scattered thoughtlessly

By the gods of fate and destruction

The mermaid's soprano lilt echoes coldly in their faces

Like the howling wind and the pounding rain

Lightning flashing and thunder crashing

Hushing their plaintive human cries

Dashing their hopes at the last minute

As they are cut down and drowned

By their foolish hopes of a strange lover's true intent

She watches in stony silence

With a mysterious smile on her granite lips

Lone sentinel of the deep, perched above the crashing sea

The desolate chill numbed my soul

A winter like no other pressed me to the edge

Recoiling in horror at the heart I once knew

A stranger lived in my head

Someone I never knew existed

Pushing me closer and closer to the jagged, icy crevice

Silently stepping off solid ground into the void

Broken wings flailing at the laughing air

As I tumbled through the emptiness

Swallowing me up

with unthought words

I would have cut my heart out

And traded it for a bit of peace

Barely clinging to myself

Fears, delights, anxious nights

Scratching at the door of my mind

Begging for entrance as I pushed back

Against the frigid winds

That threatened the life I loved

Spring breezes have melted the icicles that gripped me

Softly sweeping away the gray snow that blinded me

Bringing me home to myself

Letting me breathe again

Letting me feel again

Buds on the trees remind me

I survived

I made it though

The Winter of unbearable discontent

Stab me with a fountain pen and I will bleed ink.

My black embryonic fluid will splatter into letters, words, and sentences on sheets of creamy, white paper and pool at my feet when I fall asleep, head on the desk, clutching the pen in my stiff hand.

My insides will splash and stain the nearby walls with confused ramblings and carefully edited thoughts that have been bouncing off the walls in my brain for as long as I’ve been able to think.

Can anyone remember the first thought they ever had? The first tear they ever shed? Their first nightmare?

I can.

The crazed mist of memories is all here, tucked neatly into the never sleeping beehive under my skull. How can humans not go crazy? So many thoughts fighting for a place in our heads. Every day more thoughts crowd into that finite space.

Stick a pen in my vein and let the thoughts drip out onto the pages before I lose what little sanity I have left. Any pain in there? Bleed it out onto the screen before me, so I can understand it. Regrets? Many. They live rent-free in my head until I pour my inky blood out onto hungry pages, looking for redemption. Dreams? They are gone. Taken by my past.

Writing is a sick business, done in the dark by sick people.

Little did the foolish Leprechaun know

This glorious pot of gold was all for show

I lured him in with my shiny facade, little by little

A fine fix he's in now that he's in my kettle

Sweet green stew, bubbling away with the flames on low

Your life will shatter like china on the floor. If you break free, don’t go back for more. Listen to your friends. They see with their eyes, not their hearts. Your heart can’t be trusted. I know because I’ve watched you stumble and fall. I’ve seen the bruises and the tears. Run when you get the chance. The next time- run a little bit faster, a little bit sooner.

Ignore the ones who don’t believe in you. Believe you can do anything you set your mind on. You are stronger than you know. You are smarter than you think. Stubborn is not a fault. Time and time again you’ve proven nothing will stop you if you’d only trust yourself. People have their own reasons for putting you down. It has nothing to do with you. It’s all about their own pain. Believe that. I’ve seen all you have done with the little you’ve been given.

Know that your decision was the right one, even if no one tells you so. Know that your choices were good and your heart was pure. Someday you will see. Now you just feel empty, hurt and confused. I know because I was there with you through it all and I counted your tears and felt your scars. Trust me, though, when I tell you that someday you will be rewarded with joy. Be patient with yourself. Don’t give up too soon. Your answered prayer is right around the corner. I promise.

Stop thinking you deserve all the bad things in this world. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve better than what you’re taking from life. It’s coming. Don’t think your life is always going to hurt. Put away the razor blades and stop self-destructing with bad men, liars, cheaters and abusers. When life offers you choices, think twice and stop settling. Whatever you’ve done that makes you believe you’re worthless- it’s a lie. You don’t have to take the leftovers and the crumbs. God is preparing a table for you and it’s a feast. You just have to hang in there a few more years.

Someday you won’t be running away from life. A day is coming when you won’t be speeding past happy homes with toys in the yard on your way to another lonely week. Someday the life you are missing will find you. Someday there will be love. So much that you would never believe it if I described it to you right now. You will have children who will leave their toys in the yard and you’ll cry because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll be happy. You will be happy. Don’t quit.

Someday you will put away your suitcases. Someday you will hang up your dancing shoes and find a place to call home. Someday you will be surrounded by a family and love and happiness. The fog clouds your eyes now- but when the sun finally shines on your life you won’t believe how warm it feels.

Listen to me. I come from the future to warn you of your present. I can’t change it for you. It will happen the way it was written. All I can do is tell you the pain won’t last forever. Keep trying. When you fall down, get back up. What you endure now will make you wiser, kinder and gentler with those in your future who are suffering what you’ve gone through. It’s not for nothing that we hurt.