We may be strangers that meet on a dusty road but together we share stories for passage to a brighter day.
Fragile yet strong. Battered by weather and by life’s storms. You stand resolute. Taken to the brink of despair. You share of the unexpected inquisition that threw your creative soul into a state of flux.
Yet I can’t see clearly. I hear your voice but I perceive through the heat haze of my own story. Wrinkles on the fabric of my life send off refracted and reflected light to your truth. With open ears I seek to listen, to understand, through the noise of beams and shadows.
For what I see is parchment. Parchment known for strength and stability. I seek to see your story written there. A masterpiece, a serenade, a lament. Your memoir; a collection of broken shards brought together inviolate for change.
BY DEE GRANT 2021
I find hearing peoples stories fascinating. This reflective piece is the sharing of two narratives as strangers meet. Heartfelt stories where something unexpected changes their lifes journey. This is a true story based on meeting with a stranger earlier this week. Our backgrounds couldn’t be more different.
I studied the Narrative Construction of Reality by Jerome Bruner many years ago and have appreciated the power of narrative ever since.
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com
With grinding teeth and sobbing tears my recent hopes, my greatest fears, came tumbling down into a mess. I hate these times I must confess. Cause when your world comes tumbling down there’s no-one there to ease that frown, and so you dwell upon each thing you cannot change…it sure does sting.
You can’t change what has happened and though a scar remains, that scar remains an emblem of life’s struggles and it’s pains. There is no silver lining. Your tears they’ll come to naught. Regardless of the matter nor how you feel distraught.
So come on there brave soldier, let’s once more bare the load. Take up your pack upon your back, trudge forward on the road. Just remember it’s a journey with blissful times and pain. So focus on the good stuff and stamp them in your brain.
Photo by muhammad nuri on Pexels.com
I came across this little poem recently that I wrote in my early 20’s. Can’t believe how down I was about the world back then nor how lost I felt. Thanks Dad for giving me the wiggle room to see the world through a different lens.
My life was but a battlefield a war within my soul, of building mighty fortresses against a cold world. A tough and hard exterior, a hardened view of life, of living up to others’ opinions for my life.
But deep inside a child peered out amidst the mire. A gentle spirit, a gentle heart, the real me sat and cried. For loneliness and heartache had crushed this tender heart and all that was left within was but a little spark.
And I thank my loving father for fanning that spark to flame for showing me how to be myself and not have to be ashamed of who I am, or what I do, or how I see the world.
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Nan’s bones were so brittle, hard surfaces were her enemy. She moves with her walker with absolutely no symmetry. Nan reasons it’s safer to be home alone. It’s safe and secure her castle, her throne.
Family and friends would visit and fear, that this sweet loving grandma that they all held so dear, was wasting away in her homely cocoon. She needs to get out and we think…soon.
(Read fast) Let’s go to the park. Let’s set up a table. Let’s get grandma organised she’s still with it, still able. She’ll get to see kids run round and play. Let’s get her out, yes lets sort it today.
Nan watches in terror as the kids zip around. She fears for her footing which just isn’t that sound. But Nan bless her soul won’t show her fear. She smiles, is pleasant, as family is dear.
BY DEE GRANT 2020
We all have different lenses of how we see the world. It’s the same with family. Seniors share of their concerns with me of being out and about and how scary it can be for them sometimes. Noone would ever know.They are amazing. Such true grit.
Feature image photo by Edu Carvalho at Pexels – Woman Standing Near Yellow Petalled Flower https://www.pexels.com/@educarvalho
My husband is stuck with me here in my pain, for better or worse must drive him insane
Today another day I wish I was away, away from the pain of my everyday. Though I live in a place that people would love, all I feel is pain and I pray to above. I pray to above for a bit of reprieve, cause I’m locked in this body with no way to leave.
It’s autoimmune they’ll remind me. Yes it sucks when at night your muscles twitch and weave. Yes we know you’re in pain, what meds can we give, what stretches, what counselling, to make life worth the live? But I know through experience from years on this road, there’s no silver lining just carry the load.
BY DEE GRANT