Tag Archives: karma

Divine Intervention

Out of nowhere came this urgent need to reconnect with him. It had been several years but took only minutes before his voice was in my ear and he was damning me for reaching out again. I’d found him in limbo, which wasn’t actually surprising, he’d already done his stint in India, studying with the masters, becoming a Yogi and whoring the knowledge he’d gained for himself in order to survive. Always just trying to survive.

He was back in the states on the west coast, ready to head east if I gave the word. He was tired and just wanted to lie down, wanted to lie down with me. But I hesitated, as I always did, and no matter how brief or split second my pause, that was always the deciding factor.

We relived each moment spent, every truth ever told, forgave all the pain caused by endless lies and selfish deceptions. It was cleansing. It was cathartic. It was the most honest we’d ever been.

We said goodbye and promised to stay connected, though time slipped away and we never really did. Only after I found myself lost, once more wandering blind in the black abyss, did I reach for him again, only this time he did not come. I searched and quickly found that a brain tumor had taken my sage to the other side, just six months after we said our final goodbye.

I slipped deeper into the pit where no light could penetrate, lingering in my pain with no will to move from that place; and I stayed there for three long agonizing years. Until one night he came to me in a dream.

The next morning I searched and quickly found a message that previously had not been received. A comment left on a post he’d written after reading my words.

There must be something

Worse than being alone

More painful than lonely

Something other than death

Though I’ve yet to find it –

“I’ve been searching too. Nothing of value. I thought it was karma but it’s really just life. You move me with this one. This is powerful, this is truth…dying’s not so bad. I’m not haunting, but I am knocking.”

Death had changed me, for what I believed to be forever, loss had snuffed out my light and I knew there was no coming back; accepted as my fate to simply exist for my remaining days; until he threw a rope into the well of angst and urged me to climb out.

That changed me more than death could ever do, for in that moment I was reminded what my pain had allowed me to forget; there is no death, only a shift of worlds and our connection is never truly lost; and if he could throw me a rope from the other side of life, I could sure as hell reach out and take back mine.

~ jillterry 7.1.18




©2014 jillterry│jillterry.com

Wicked Webs


Its fear that keeps him
Coming back

     …Anxiety building

Fear of her unknown
Of the truth exposed

Tangled in webs
Spun of silver cords
Endless lies
Struggling internal

How did it all
Get so complicated
Over and over
His personal mantra

What he’s learning
About his ugly truth
It always follows
Wherever he goes

©2013 jill terry

ignis fatuus

ignis fatuus

Enveloped in a cocoon
Safe in a protective crowd
Intent in this technique
Forever shielding himself

Lost in glorified illusion
To keep from coming apart
His ugly unknown truth
Self-serving lies

A knife looming
Forever in darkness
Threatening to shred
Threadbare foundation

Alone in the corner
When everyone has gone
Haunted by echoes
Broken wailing hearts

Eloquently manipulated
Some forever scarred
All unknowing victims
His sick twisted vice

©2013 jillie

Behind the Mask


Still so predictable
Playing the same game
Alias number three
Am I the only one

Who sees?

As if images alone
Didn’t give him away
The same old shit
Worn out style

Not even about them
Couldn’t care less
Just needing to be there
Lurking in shadows

Spewing his shit
Hoping for a word
Praise and thanks
Pretending to be

Someone he’s not

Ah, but he is
The same fucking fuck
Sneaking and hiding
Ducking and running

His karmic retribution
Unable to hide
Ever from himself
Or the likes of me

Cut here, you say…
As if that wrist
I wouldn’t know

That, my dear
Would be my
Greatest pleasure!

©2013 jill terry


I wanted so much to believe she as sincere, that some small shred of her former self still remained. But as I stood across from her on the other side and watched her nod to her friend just a few feet away, who on cue, inconspicuously raised her Droid and snapped several photos of the grieving daughter sprinkling dirt over her mother’s open grave, images that would later find their way onto Facebook and a plethora of other social media sites; I knew she was gone forever, that sweet little girl I once so adored and cared for, lost in a world of self-centeredness and conceit.

It wasn’t simply teenage rebellion that led her to do the things she’d done in recent months, it was pure selfishness, greed and the feeling of empowerment, when she successfully played her parents against each other and got exactly what she wanted. It was making her mother pay, for rules she believed she was too cool to follow, because she was fourteen now and knew it all.

What she didn’t realize was that her father’s attempts at proving her mother unfit and seeking full custody had nothing to do with her whatsoever. It wasn’t because after twelve years of joint custody he woke up one day and realized that he wanted to be a fulltime dad and to have her to live with him on a regular basis, it was because his business was failing and if the court ruled in his favor, not only would the monthly child support payments stop, but he would be the one receiving them; every month for the next four years. And with his live-in girlfriend, closer to his daughter’s age than his own, he wouldn’t be bothered with the trappings or responsibility of having to entertain or shuttle her wherever she needed or wanted to go; he had someone to do that for him.

What neither of them realized, was just how sick and weak the mother really was. She hid her illness as best she could, masking it as merely stress or fatigue; refusing to allow it to interfere with her life and her children’s lives; determined to be the best mom she could be, and give her kids everything that she possibly could. But the months of endless psychiatric appointments, evaluations and interviews, left her filled with fear and trepidation, at not only losing her teenage daughter, but her five year old daughter from her current marriage as well, should the strangers who were appointed by the court on behalf of her ex-husband, decided that she was, in fact, mentally unstable and unfit.

It was the day before the hearing and no matter what she did, she couldn’t calm her racing heart, couldn’t stop the worrisome thoughts from their merciless torment, even though she knew she was a good and loving mother and she believed wholeheartedly that truth would prevail.

She called her doctor in a state of panic and twenty minutes after arriving and being led to a private room, she died of cardiac arrest; on the cold steel, paper covered table, in an oversized gown with its faded green and blue flowered pattern; alone, as she worried of her children’s fate and her own.

The daughter was promptly removed from the private school she had attended since pre-K, which her mother and step-father had always paid for, because her dad couldn’t afford tuition. Her iphone was replaced with a basic flip model that did nothing but place and receive calls, and featured an automatic shut off once her monthly minutes had been reached. The live-in girlfriend moved out after three months of being a fulltime babysitter/shuttle service, which she hadn’t signed up for and had absolutely no interest in; and having been forced to begin her high school years in public school, the know-it-all teenager found herself pregnant by the end of third semester, hoping that her grandparents would take sympathy and allow her to live with them, instead of her deadbeat dad, who she not so long ago, believed was totally awesome; for giving her anything she asked for and letting her do whatever she wanted.

©2011 Jill Terry



There comes a certain “feel,” no matter where you happen to be, whenever his thoughts turn in your direction.

It starts at the basic level of the flesh; like the cool breeze on a crisp autumn night; tantalizing and chilling all at once.

Your blood pressure rises, heart rate increases, as he sends invisible waves of desire, cascading in your direction.

At the sound of his voice, a chemical reaction triggers, and suddenly you are seized; with a mix of exhilaration and excitement like none other you have ever known.

A connection is what he seeks; the ability to reach out and snatch you from reality; pulling you into his realm of illusion; with nothing more than his thoughts and voice.

Once he connects, the feeding begins; everything you want to hear, anyone you want him to be; larger than life, too good to be true; having searched for eternity and now loving only you.

Before you can blink, you are on a downward spiral; surrendered completely while careening out of control.

He drains you empty, while filling you up; taking every scrap offered, pillaging the rest while you dream.

Making his exit as quickly as he comes; a puddle of nothing, you remain on the floor. Left alone, to sift through the pain; cloaked in his filthy blanket of noir.

© jillterry

Means to an end

means to an end

With old patterns faltering in the wake of time, serving him less and less; desperation creeps, then slowly sets in.

Searching for something real to cling to; in a world of illusion and cheap parlor tricks; of which he created and has always dwelled.

Better to be an imaginary somebody, than a real no body; his platform, his soapbox, his mission, his salvation.

Spewing his gospel as weightless as smoke rings, growing bored with his half dozen converts; unable to stroke his monstrous ego; he sees only one place left to go.

One soul he touched. Upon a time was touched by. He refuses to release and let go. Disguised as forgiveness, he sets about his mission; back to the only arms left, that wait wide open.

Naïve and weak, yet privy to his ways; a masochist for certain, to take him back in. She is not the reason, but merely a convenience. Providing him shelter, buying him time; bringing him closer to where he believes salvation resides.

The beautiful butterfly, with delicate wings; once so fragile, easily ravaged; consumes his thoughts, still rules his darkness; and so true to predator form, of which he will always be, he sets about stalking, making connections; broadcasting his relation, as if guaranteeing him a position. Wasting time, sniffing and searching; for the butterfly has morphed, long ago taken flight.

And so time ticks on, for this wasted life; over educated and under achieved. When he could have soared to the greatest of heights; been a true inspiration, perhaps a revered master. But the only expertise, he can lay claim in the end; is leaving a trail of pain, in the wake of his disaster.

© jillterry

Shallow Sal

Just as it began
To materialize
For the first time in
His life

Wrapping his head
His heart around it
Embracing with wild

Shifting perception
To a clearer view
Filled with wonder

Unveiling calm
In the storm of
His life
To his true self
Introductions made

Freedom offered
At too high a cost
He weighed the options
Too much to be lost

He fabricated a story
That fit the bill
Sold his soul
For that house on
The hill

Building his arsenal
Of material possessions
At the end of day
Believing he’s
Made it

© jillterry

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