"Accolades For Valor" by Matthew Johnson (1993): "She goes through life, gliding, a benevolent seer/ Stopping constantly to aid those in need, those not even dear/ I, an individual, swept up in the storm/ Of a woman, who, in search of herself, defies the norm/ As I, an outcast, fighting myself, yet daring to believe/ That if I ask her aid and succor (and possibly love) she won’t leave/ Giving her heart, mind and soul to every known cause/ Causing me to look about my selfish malestrom, and in introspection give pause/ For all her words, she won’t write about me, does she fail to perceive/ What the object knows to be true and what make believe—/ Words rarely present, presence much more of one/ Is to wish for more as good as wishing for the sun?/ Energy is precious, as I know well to be true/ And I am curious to know, Lorraine, what I can ask of you/ Names are important, they make us who we are/ Much more important than people give credit, by far/ The masses may cry “Lori!” and let them do so!/ For the numbers who call that cannot understand/ They will never know the Lorraine inside, the one crying to live/ Will be forever frustrated by those whose minds are like a sieve/ There may be those who rob her of her world, let them scratch the skin/ They are as pinpricks to the steel within/ These accolades are not exaggeration, not pretentious/ I Just want you to know that there is at least one who is conscious/ That the world is a better place for the life of a woman named Lorraine."

Tuesday, February 01, 2000

My Precious One

I love you more than anything.
You're the mot beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I'm so grateful for your life force,
and the fight you fought to be.

I hate the pain you feel;
the discomfort you constantly endure;
I can't imagine the agony
when you're as helpless as you are.

Every time you stiffen or arch;
every time your lip quivers;
every time I hear you gag;
I wish I could deliver.

My heart breaks
as you struggle.
My body aches,
trying to comfort you.

My poor baby,
my heart aches
through and through.

To watch you go from the brightest smile,
in an instant, to a wince and a shriek;
to see you twist and writhe in pain;
I feel so worthless and weak.

I hope for you, my precious one,
this misery will end soon.
I hope more than anything,
I can make it up to you.

February 1, 2000

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