It Takes a Village

Photography by David Nam Lip Lee

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Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse #43
and Poets United for Poetry Pantry # 440
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Mothers are the gardeners of the human race. ~Anna A. Rogers


If we lose our mother young
we search our whole life for her
in the faces of strangers
in the arms of those we hold dear
all the roads we take
lead to questions
we never ask
the silence of the unknowing 
becomes the song we always sing
yet somewhere in the place
of holding on and letting go
we find 
that she is all around us
in the void there is an outpouring
that fills up some of the empty places
women have a way of nurturing
the lost child
like the lioness in the pride
will care for another's young
the motherless child
will grow up
and one day
look back
and realize
they found many mothers
God provides one way or another
and that is the answer
to the questions
of a lost child.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

L O V E

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Linking with Poets United for the Midweek Motif ~ Love
 Brought to us by Sumana

Without love, the rich and poor live in the same house.
 ~Author Unknown

I never cared much for diamonds

they cut skin and pocketbooks

it has always been about 

love and what my heart felt

I never wanted to be a gold digger

sounds too messy anyway

give me a heart of gold and soft kisses 

and I will follow you 

to your one room shack

and work two jobs

to make it all work

yes love has led me

along a rocky path

and I have stumbled down it

with an awkward grace

there were times I questioned my decisions

but now I have no regrets

every fall has refined my heart 

like the polishing and cutting

of raw diamonds

if there had not been my first husband

I would not have 4 people

I cherish in my life

and if there had not been 

my second 

I would not have my Becky

for each gravel road has

led to a beautiful palace of family

rough rivers leading 

to a breathtaking sea

and the amazing part it this 

*****

through it all

the love gets stronger

with time

it's comfort grows like 

trees shade in evening

and after all

I never cared much for diamonds

they cut skin and pocketbooks

it has always been about the love.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

What Injures and What Saves

"War Horse and Peace Horse"  by Sue Halstenberg

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 42


Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. ~Lao Tzu

Love is a beautiful horse that only a few truly ride

It takes courage to try to tame it and hold it by your side

You cannot be blind nor selfish, you must look it in the eyes

And be willing to give it the food it needs for the journey’s ride

Love is a beautiful horse that some see but do not embrace

They do not appreciate the colors and wonder upon its face

And those that fear the loss are not willing to take the chance

For love is a risk in falling and getting hurt for any heart of man

Love is a beautiful horse that when ridden there is no turning back

One never wants to let go once the feel of freedom is within their grasp

But many a heart has been broken and many a sad song has been played

For love in all it’s true beauty is a wild ride that can both injure as well as save. 

The Sensation of Falling

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Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "Just  One Word"
brought to us by Marian

Fear is the father of courage and the mother of safety. ~Henry H. Tweedy

In my dreams

flight is a feeling I like

souring high in the air

fast and strong

with wings wide and beautiful

no fear of falling

but in life

the feeling of flying

in a jet plane

keeps me on the ground

it is a sensation I do not like

yes the feeling of not being in control

is a something that I hate with a purple passion

it even carries over into driving

when you are on wheels

there is an element of control

that can be lost in the process

hydroplaning and possible head injuries

can be part of the equation

hence I hold both hands on the wheel

and back seat drive as a passenger

which I am fairly certain is a

bad sensation for the people

I am riding with

fear has been my feathered companion

long before I recognized the relationship

I try to let go, but breakups can be hard

I do not want to be captive to its hold

although I am thinking

  it is truly me

that won’t let go

for the fear of flight

lingers when you cannot forget

the sensation of falling.

The Remembering

"I sat with my anger long enough, until she told me her real name was grief."
~ Isaac Rowe

My mother was many things in this life.  One of those things was an artist, another was pianist, and yet another was animal lover.  For many years I forgot about all of these.  All I held onto was the loss and the hurt in dealing with her death.  I could not let go of the question, why did she not care enough to live, if not for herself, at least for us?  You see, my Mom passed of the same thing Karen Carpenter did.  She had congestive heart failure due to malnutrition. 

It was 1972, my first day of 4^th grade, and my last day to see her.  I do not remember tears; I only remember leaving school early to see her in the hospital, and her passing right before our eyes.  The last 2 years before that time, are very vague and I remember only bits and pieces, but I know that I lost her in many ways long before that day.  I am certain of that because of my reaction to her passing away. There were no tears.  If I could find a way to describe how I felt it would probably be like being an empty vase, that once held beautiful flowers many years before, and with time the feeling of emptiness had simply become both familiar and greater.

Through the years, there was a quiet anger that lulled beneath the surface.  I usually did not acknowledge it.  It was as much a part of me as my feet that kept me running from the pain, and my hands that do not always let go of what they should.  It loyally stayed by my side, as I ignored it like an unwanted child.  

Then in my early adulthood, I became a mother myself; going through childbirth, and all the many experiences of having a little person in one’s care.  It was during that time, in the joy and the adjustment that my quiet friend grief came forward to show its true face.  For the first time I found myself crying.  Something I had done very very little of in the past.  Anger had been my main emotion, and that was only when I let myself think on what had taken place all those years ago.  Every milestone my little one had; learning to say words, walking, his 1^st birthday, and even daily things, made me feel a deep sadness inside.  It was then that I truly realized all that I had lost. 

Many years have passed since that time of my life, and I am no longer that angry young woman, or lost little girl.  I have long since made peace with my mother and my memories of her and the time that led up to her passing.  I have let go of that bitterness that filled my heart with sadness, yet now I am so much more than what I was.  My life is full with what is and not empty with what is not.  I am a writer, a dreamer, a mother and grandmother, an animal lover, and so much more.  In many ways, I am a reflection of my mother. 

Many things in our lives define us; molding us into the people we become, yet our hopes fears, and dreams can fade, grow, or change with time.  What we have and what we lose in this life can either widen or lesson our view of what is behind and ahead of us.  I spent many years confined by the loss I did not want to face.  Angry at a person that could no longer defend their actions.  Grief is a heavy coat that can smother and weigh us down, and everyone handles it differently.  It is a part of life that we all have to face, and as painful as it is, I have come to realize that it makes one value life all the more.

These days I frequently find myself thinking about my mother . . . what it would have been like if she had still been around and what she would have thought about my life. Would she have been proud of me?  Over the last couple of decades I have been trying to learn to draw mainly because she was an artist and I admire that so much.  You see, now I remember all those precious things --  all the attributes she had that were so amazing. The more I remember these things, the more I realize what matters most in this life--cherishing the ones we love and embracing all of who they are; the good, the difficult, and the beautiful.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.
 ~Henry Van Dyke

Life Feeds us Truth

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Linking with ~The Sunday Muse~ for Muse # 41
Also linking with Imaginary Gardens for the Tuesday Platform
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"Learning how to be still, to really be still and let life happen - that stillness becomes a radiance."
~ Morgan Freeman

Sometimes when you wait patiently

opportunity picks you up and your purpose is finally in place

the fruits of your past labors come to pass

and other times

you must hike a ten-mile stretch to a hidden tree

 and pluck it up yourself.

life is like that

apples or oranges

but sometimes pears

be patient

be courageous

be still yet quick and strong

we all are bruised from a fall

wanting approval and purpose

no matter our condition

not wanting to be left and forgotten

like a hidden fruit at the back of the fridge

yet sometimes being courageous means

being still in the storm

or staying in the shadows

and letting someone else

sit in the spot light

yes we grasp this slowly as we move forward

learning to reach

when to let go

and how to be still

life feeds us truth

to nurture our journey

but we must be willing to accept it

and truly take it all in

partake my friend

it may be sour now

but at times it will also be wonderful and sweet. 

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

The Unspoken Words of a Fool

"In the Middle of Freedom"  by Isabel Mansfield

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Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse # 40
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The sharpest sorrows are those which remain locked within our own breasts.
 ~James Lendall Basford

Words do not die

 they wait in silence

as do the unspoken words of a fool

  they survive held captive

 like an abducted child

waiting in bated breath

 for a chance to escape

 yet never losing hope in the years that pass 

there are so many things I wish I had said to you

 I thought I would have the chance

 but time can be a nimble thief

  the chance has long since passed

songs on the radio send thoughts reeling

 like paper cranes in the air

 that will never make it very far

sentiments of hope and love

 lost down darkened halls

 so many feelings wishing

 for a way to be expressed

  perhaps that is why

I became a poet

to give expression

to all my captive thoughts

a million different ways

of saying.... I wish you were still here.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

A Mighty Ocean and a Magnificent God

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~This is a response to a beautiful poetry prompt book given to me by my dear daughter Amber.~
Each page of the prompt book is a different word subject. This one is:
The Ocean

Let God's promises shine on your problems. ~Corrie Ten Boom

“It is bigger than we are” he said to me,

 speaking of the affliction of addiction

 evading our youngest son.

My heart had long since broken in countless pieces,

like grains of sand along the shore.

You see, the love we have

for our children

is a force that grows with time

and their struggles and heartbreak

are a sorrow we also hold just as tight.

Fears and hopes can be mighty things,

like an ocean across the horizon

becoming all we can see

but like a gentle soul once told me,

“God is bigger and He is with us.”

It is an awe-inspiring truth,

that God the maker of the universe

chooses to dwell within us

yet is gentle enough to ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many miracles and sorrows

have happened since that day.

My son is now whole in Christ,

and so are the pieces of my heart.

Whenever I think of what God can do

 I think of the beautiful and mighty ocean,

and when I stand before the sea

It is our beautiful and mighty God

that I truly see.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Black and White

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The Sunday Muse # 39

If only
 life could be that way
 black and white
 no in between
but there is always an in between
grey areas
full of obscurity
questions to be asked
answers that don't always come
a chaos in the order
a madness that sings too loud
near the silence of peace.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019