I have no adequate words to describe the emotions this poem gave me…..Powerful words Molli.

and love is not a victory march. it’s a cold and it’s a grateful….

maybe a broken hallelujah is the only kind that makes sense.

Beth, thank you so much for your comment. I know I’ve been extraordinarily lame in keeping up with you all and I owe a million comments to you! Money issues and the like have kept me off the net more often than not, but I’m hoping to catch up with all of your writings as soon as possible and, of course, return the kindness you’ve shown me so often.

‘Jack’, given my cynicism at the moment – and my attempts to avoid it on all possible occassions, I’m going to disagree with your statement I hope you’re well and that you’ve found occassion to disprove your comments for yourself!
Anyway, my thanks for stopping by and peppering my page with your presence

I recommend avoidance of cynicism at all costs and I could nver take offense at a little disagreement. After all, I waited until after 9/11 had passed to drop by for another hello and to see what other delicacies you had offered. And thank you for enquiring after my health and state of mind. I am indeed well and I hope you are the same.

I would never want to be guilty of anything as unpleasant as “cynicism” and I would never so much as stir the air if it would create any sort of indelicacy. Thank you for inquiring after my health. Indeed, I am in the pink.

I thought my first comment had not gone through but I have once again been defeated by the vagueries of computers. I’m sorry for the overlap. Defeated again by vanity and words. Oh the intricacies of expression.

Ah Melinda. Here’s a little ditty for you.

I can’t blame you
And there’s no way
To tell you
Without self-pity
But if I can just use the phrase
Disaster of the heart
Or maybe the phrase
Apocalypse of the soul
(all right. Too dramatic)
but any phrase that could get across
the simple idea
that this isn’t over yet
and pain is real
and vivid
and lives on and on
even when it has nothing to feed it
and no one to nurture it
in it’s hidden gardens
of the labyrinthine soul