The dawn of a new day...

I'm in a much more positive space today, despite great worry about a few of my friends. I did help my counselor/reader the other night, so that was a wonderful feeling to wake up to. I am still in the early phases of healing but I know I will get there and be stronger for it.

I have spent the morning writing a new poem - A Whispering Breeze - and created a new shrine for those of us caught up in or wounded by a Saturn-Neptune Connection relationship. This relationship was my THIRD such Saturn/Neptune relationship...you'd think I would stay away from them like the plague by now, but no, I try, try again. Of course only those who have experienced them personally have any clue what it feels like, how you are drawn into it, how it feels so RIGHT. I work with these relationships all the time and the feelings and relationships are so familiar.

Shall I now vow NEVER AGAIN? Have I learned enough about it yet??? LOL

I saw online that there is SNOW in Virginia already, so it looks like we will indeed have a white Christmas on our short break there. We are escaping to the Blue Ridge foothills for Christmas this year...we will be WAY out in the boonies and I will turn OFF my blackberry and experience a little peace and quiet for a few days. I can assure you that the world will still turn without me, though you'd think the sky was falling every time I disappear for a few days by the guilt trips people lay on me. I have not had a break since a few days in Ohio late last year, so it is WAY overdue. My clients and site visitors will have me fresh again and ready to tackle their issues.

I've looked high and low for a poem I wrote earlier this year about digging a grave, but it must be lost on my destroyed PC. I will try to get it off there when I have more time...so the following poem from a few months ago will have to do, perhaps a precursor to the current issue:

They Sing in the Silence

These bones are bare,
Stripped of skin and flesh,
Demure and vulnerable,
Warm and yet so cold in the twilight
Of your gaze…
These bones are bare,
Cracked, lined zigzagging fissures
Resting sullenly in the box,
Alone and discarded in the aftermath
Of your ministrations…
Ahh…yes, these bare and broken things!
How they rustle while lying still,
How they sing in the silence,
Melodic whispers but an echo in the dark.
Listen! Listen…their song mournful
Yet vibrant, daring to spill secrets.

Oh…how they do sing!
A dirge of pain and cracked memories,
Taunting you with their fragility and strength…

Dena L Moore
September 2, 2008