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I'm Still Here

Retired counselor, 341 short stories published by FSU. I have 4 sons, love sharing photography, writing, love travel, sunshine, sea & Grace.

ECHOES

For my sons:

Once, the summer breeze warmed us, and words we used were molded from the feelings you trusted, and we would snuggle up, close

Now, huge rocks rise between us, and we get cut and bleed, there's no way through

Memories of small boy/s, big eyes, open hearts. Words like arms, wrapped in tenderness and care. Easy flowing with no icebergs. But winter was on its way...

Now, this land is barren; ice-covered, cracked and broken; huge chasms have formed

You’re over there, I am here. I am here. Still here. Calling out from a place once so warm; screaming through chasms and rocks, echoes...lost

I miss our summer garden. Wild young buds and open flowers! Weeds manageable (and I love to garden). Time. Takes its toll on caretakers and weeds so high, no sky, could only feel my way, fumbling, bumping into things (tender buds, you who I nurtured; I bruised) and now

Wilderness. Desert. Rocks. Where's the stream? Where are you? Where's the bridge back?

Can you feel me (where the rocks and the chasms and the deserts and the wildernesses don't exist)? ...Can't you feel me?

I am here, I am here, I am still here. (Echo, echo, echo....)

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