Monthly Archives: October 2011

TIS THE SEASON. . .

Bonaventure Cemetery
© 2011 Jill Terry

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L I F E . . .

She was sending texts from the hospital, waiting for the doctor; nervous, as this day has been long in coming. I told her to find a Zen spot and focus. She said she didn’t know if she had a Zen spot; I laughed and told her that’s why she needed to find one!

She laughed, nervously, and said she hoped she was able to find one. It’s something she always talked about, then for a while simply gave up on; as the chances were slim and even if, would be high risk. But she’s done so good, right up until just a few days ago. Granted there were times I followed closely down the hall behind her, or caught her doing something she didn’t need to be doing, sent her back to her office and completed the task for her. But through it all she’s been strong, positive, hopeful, and whether she realizes or not, absolutely glowing.

She lost her mother a few years ago and I know that’s been weighing heavy on her heart, wanting her here to share and receive the support only a mother can give. I felt helpless, wanting to do something more for her, but all I had to offer were my words. And so I gave her these…

Just know that every path you’ve ever chosen or followed has led to this moment…
LIFE

She responded back immediately; “That’s why I needed you…Words of Wisdom,” and I knew then I’d given her exactly what she sought from me and I needn’t worry about not being there to hold her hand, feed her ice chips or help her breathe. My job was done and I knew she was going to be fine.

I thought about her as soon as I woke this morning, walked out of the bedroom and found my own 6’ little man laying on the sofa already ready for school, and was immediately transported thirteen years into the past. I sat down beside him and took him there with me.

The first time I held him, laying in recovery; looking over and seeing my dad walking toward me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, carrying that precious bundle of life, gently cradled in his big, powerful arms; walking up beside me and placing him in mine.

My demanding that he not be taken to the nursery, but remain in my room with me, for fear that someone would snatch him away; my hand touching his little body the entire night; his little chest rising and falling, feeling empty, yet fulfilled that he was no longer inside me, but slept peacefully at my side.

Nurse Ratched towering over me, not giving me a chance, not showing an ounce of patience; telling me instead that if I didn’t get him to eat she was going to take him away and make him eat! Immediately called my mom, freaking out, in tears, get here quick I said, you can have your breakfast later. And the relief I felt the moment she walked through that door, came straight to the side of the bed, picked up the bottle, put it to his lips, rubbed his little cheeks and he immediately started sucking.

Thirteen years of moments shared; joy, laughter, tears, fears, amazing accomplishments, life lessons learned; and a love the likes of which I have never known, nor will I again; the love between a mother and her child.

He had tears in his eyes by the time I finished, stood up and hugged me tight, then thanked me for being his mom. I love that more than words can say, but as I stood before him, looking up into those same beautiful blue eyes and that face I so cherish and adore, I couldn’t help but remember those times when I thought to myself, I couldn’t wait till he was old enough to…

And now, as my friend anxiously awaits the arrival of her own son, I wish that I could bundle mine back up and keep him with me always.

© 2011 Jill Terry


THERE IS A PATH

There is a path
Challenging and complex
That if we allow ourselves to follow
Will lead us to our dreams

Insecurity and confusion
Questions of capability
Searching for purpose
Create our hesitation

Though eager we may be
To discover what destiny awaits us
We stand at the crossroads
Instead of moving forward joyously

The universe holds our plans
Eclipsing our greatest dreams
Aware of our quests
And best formulated plans

Ever watching over us
All we must do is believe
The universe will provide
Guiding our journey of ambition

Ready to care
Always for our needs
But this attention so loving
Is not mere chance or circumstance

Nothing happens without purpose
Everything happens for a reason
Yet ego is the destroyer
Possessing its own perception

Preventing profound lessons
Labeled mistakes creating conflict
Hindering growth and progress
Of our personal evolution

At the first sign of faith
The universe will propel us
Forward toward our goals
In its unstoppable current

We only need believe
We only need trust
We only need faith
And Thy Will
Shall be done

© 2011 Jill Terry


LOST LIGHT

The sun has dipped below the water
Twilight surrounding fast with fury
A cloak of cold and darkness
Shivering from the inside out

Though even at its brightest
The warmth is rarely now felt
Blind to the brilliant light
Once so eagerly basked in

When the mind is haunted
Spirit grounded by chains
Heart filleted wide open
Soul screaming in endless pain

A barren wasteland
Of lost hope and dreams
Which not so long ago
With happyeeness overflowed

© 2011 Jill Terry


Dear Mr. Baylay,

Dear Mr. Baylay,

Correct me if I’m wrong, but if memory serves, you’re the vodka cranberry fellow that left a few comments on my blog some four years ago?

Over the past several weeks you’ve contacted me in regards to those comments, requesting that they be removed, even going so far as to leave the links where said comments can be found and easily deleted; which for anyone interested, personally or professionally, can be found at the end of this post.

Your latest email, of yesterday I believe it was, states the following;

Hi Jill,

I wrote you a couple of times reference comments on your blog.. did you get my mails? I would really appreciate your help, those comments are affecting my career. If you don’t wish to help, please let me know, so I am not just sitting and wondering.

Hope you are well,
All the very best to you –

Paul DH Baylay
25 Media | Entertainment Management
http://www.25media.net

First of all, Paul, I am not well, thank you for your empty words of concern, nor have I been for quite some time. So, while you’ve been sitting, wondering and waiting if and when my help will be received, I’ve been in and out of hospital, dealing with real life-and-death issues, while your career is purportedly being ruined by a few comments once left on my site; which makes me curious what exactly you do now that has left you so important, worldly and desperate to erase anything from your past which may defamate your character.

Regardless of your new station in life, which has you reaching out and patiently waiting on a response from the likes of me, let me say for the record, you should seriously think before you write and watch where you go slumming in the future.

And for your sake, Mr. Baylay, I hope your penis is as big as your ego!

All the very best to you –
Jill

Bullied by a Pitbull
Quote of the Day
Snapshot Saturday
Wives and Lovers


ADAGIO BREEZE

She stood in the shadow of death
Taken by the beauty
Of the valley below

Fields of green
With splashes of color
Seemingly endless
She felt no fear there

For thou art with her
Comforting in presence
Bringing only peace
Amid those long gone
Remembered in stone

Upon her sun kissed flesh
Traces of rust remained
Smiling from behind
Columns of lattice
Uncannily bore his name

And the sky sprinkled tears
As her words ran off the page
Under that grey laden sky
Keeping the fire within
Momentarily at bay

As adagio breezes
Kept at safe distance
The lace of Queen Anne
From a barbwire death

© 2011 Jill Terry


AT WORLDS END

Silver and ebony
She is autumn’s child
At the height of her being
Living on fate

Moments of melancholy
Memories fade
Hope slowly wanes
Bringing fits of rage

Seeing and hearing
Things forced on her person
Swallowing them whole
Then choking and purging

Fighting her way
To another worlds end
Where no one has to hurt
Beyond the invisible

© 2011 Jill Terry


HAZY DAYZ

The fog was thick in my head, as I bid my husband good day, took my coffee and left the café.

Two miles down the road and I rammed the brakes through the floorboard, to keep from eating the cute little bug I apparently didn’t see stopped right in front of me; my bag slamming into the back of my seat, sunglasses and mints filling the dash, wedged against the windshield, too far for me to reach.

I pulled over and sat for a few then made my way back out into the flow; less than five minutes later it was déjà vu, only this time a giant truck that I probably would have just careened right under.

I got in the slow lane and let the world pass by; ignoring the horns, flying fingers and fists pounding steering wheels. I was going the goddamn speed limit, but everyone was in competition, racing to the red light, on their way to nowhere.

I found an empty lot, pulled over and parked. Sent a few texts then reclined my seat, noted the business sign beside me and wondered what in the hell a Yum-Yum Tree was.

Thirty minutes passed and the dizzy was subsiding, and since my boss’ response was “be safe” I thought it best to head on in to office. I pulled onto University, taking my time; the strip of Jacksonville I’ve come to call, Boulevard of the Bizarre. And even through my lightheaded haze, I was still focused enough to see.

He was 80 if he was a day; in his neon green safety vest, hunched forward, walking slowly, making his way up the median, of the busiest intersection in the entire city. Clutching to his chest, as if the only thing keeping him balanced, the six page Times Union, because that’s what it’s been reduced to, though it will still cost you a buck twenty-five.

He shouldn’t have been there, peddling for survival; he should be out somewhere fishing, along the banks of the river, enjoying himself, leisurely passing what time he has left.

Such a sad state most of us now face; forced to work until we die, after paying our dues the whole of our lives. Somebody should seriously do something about that, while the puppets on strings dance for the masters agenda.

9:00 a.m. and the parking lot already full; men you would think should be somewhere working; stuffing dollar bills watching strippers fuck brass poles. Paying for their egos to be hunched and stroked, and for the right price, taken to the back room, where she’ll do it for you till you cum; so long as you’re a good boy and look, don’t touch.

Two blocks down and the big building sits abandoned. The giant sign now torn in half, whipping wildly in the wind; thanking Jacksonville for 45 years of customer loyalty but sadly Liberty Furniture now going out of business; huge liquidation sale, everything must go.

Another half mile down on the right, they line the sidewalk waving their signs. 7000+ babies murdered by their mothers – Pregnant? Let us Help! And the pastor in his robes leading them in prayer; just a block away from Memorial Hospital, where a newborn was found in the dumpster, its mother long gone, unwanted, unloved, now a ward of the State.

They claim life begins at conception, and terminating a pregnancy is murder, yet they turn a blind eye to all the live children who suffer; continue their rants in the name of God, because everyone is entitled to take up a cause.

At the end of the day, counting the jewels they believe they’ve earned, for their crown of glory, gifted from the Lord. Not realizing that judging, demoralizing, demeaning and damning, will earn them only thorns and a guarantee of nothing.

I shook my head and re-stirred the fog, not to worry, I was nearly almost there. Looked in the rearview and saw the blackened sky, being chased now I was, by a wicked looking storm. I accelerated just a tad, hoping to beat the downpour; for there was no doubt I would crumble and melt away, if the rain were to catch and wash over me this day.

© 2011 Jill Terry


ELEMENTS

When great expectations
Fall short of delivery
Needs and wants
Remain unfulfilled

Wishes and dreams
Turn to imagination
Tears and pain
Are all too real

Search for the River
Without any banks

For life is precious
Time too short

We shouldn’t waste
What elements of each
We currently possess

Though it might not be
Exactly what we want

What we dream
What we imagine
What we hope
What we live for

Forced to embrace
Search for sanctity
Bending time
Feigning happy

It’s not right or wrong
It just is what it is
So we struggle to survive
Whatever way we can

Because only change can happen
When we change our selves

© 2011 Jill Terry


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