Dreams of a Better Tomorrow

By Felix Odhiambo | Featured Contributor


I have dreams of a better tomorrow.

Dreams
that we will hold hands
and dance with our feet.

We have won.

Dreams
that we will rejoice again and again
after the hollow we have had in our hearts.
Dreams
that the days we used to have
will come back.
And the sky will wash away our pains,
the stars will show us the way,

I am the dreamer,
but you and I form the dreams
I have seen tomorrow
with my eyes closed
I have felt it
with my heart beating
And now I have spoken
of my silent dreams,

That a day is yet to come,
we will no longer stay at home
We will hug our neighbors
and kiss our loved ones
We will no longer preach
of washing our hands with sanitizers
And not touching
our beautiful faces,

Life will give us a chance
to make merry like we used to
We will form crowds
and praise the living God
Every night I walk
on better dreams of tomorrow
And they are not
just faded dreams
A time is yet to come,
we will sing songs of Zion,

We have won.

And COVID will remain to be history.

Continue reading “Dreams of a Better Tomorrow”

Suicide: A Personal Journey from Trauma to Triumph

By John Gregory Evans | Featured Contributor


Life can be quite demanding.

One may find themselves trying to overcome childhood sexual abuse and jump from the frying pan into the fire by volunteering with the USMC during the Vietnam War from 1971 to 1972; subsequently, sexually molested by a mid-level NCO while serving active duty through Combat Training. As well, with combat related scenarios one may also be injured upon a field training exercise after three consecutive explosive blasts are detonated, hurling an M-60 spent cartridge to its potential target, a young seventeen – year-old male’s cervical spine, thus, inducing a permanent nerve damage that could potentially one day paralyze him from the neck down, including the larynx. Hence, my patriotic chore that led a confused, dazed, and mystified young man to serious suicidal attempts and further ideation. This continued for many years.

Will there ever be relief?

Will the suffering end?

The answer to this is yes. Give yourself time.

Continue reading “Suicide: A Personal Journey from Trauma to Triumph”

To Not Lose Hope

We have highs and we have lows
The power is in our hands
We can dance or
We can cry
It’s up to us
To make the right decision.

Yes it’s hard
Like pushing a wall
That doesn’t seem to move
But once you look back
You’ll see you’ve come so far.

So don’t lose hope
When things are bad
Just hang in there
You are bound to reach
The top of the hill soon.

Victoria Abah

Thank you, Victoria, for these encouraging words.
Let us never lose hope.

Wishing you all a restful weekend.
🌷

Hope Was Not a Loss: A Story About Measles Encephalitis

By Barbara Leonhard | Featured Contributor


In this article, I would like to share my story of how an illness I suffered as a child affected me. Particularly with the climate of today, I hope this will help inform people of the consequences that can develop in young children who are at risk of getting certain illnesses.

It was the summer of 1957, and it seemed to have happened all at once, where I turned from an active six-year-old girl to a helpless baby overnight. At that time, my family was living in Lewistown, Montana, where my dad was a Presbyterian minister. Mom was at home with three children, aged seven to four. That summer, all three of us contracted measles. But while my siblings’ illnesses took a more benign course, I developed a life-threatening complication: measles encephalitisa serious and potentially fatal inflammation of the brain that can occur either during the rash phase of measles or following the illness itself.

I have often contemplated my own battle with measles encephalitis…because it did indeed nearly kill me.

Continue reading “Hope Was Not a Loss: A Story About Measles Encephalitis”

Taking Control of Depression

Depression. One word that can mean so many things. For those who have lived with or currently live with depression, you know very well the effects it can have on your daily life. Depression can drain not only your physical energy, but also your hopes, motivation, enjoyment, and personal drive. You may be aware of all the steps to getting better, but you just cannot get yourself to take even the first one. If this sounds all too familiar to you, you are not alone. And there is hope.

******************
Continue reading “Taking Control of Depression”

Restored.

Immortalized
within counterfeit fibers
of a petrified forest
are your sorrows
weighed with silt,
swallowed by shadows
of its own valley,
silenced beneath
the porcelain surface
of a visage pristine.

Banish them.
Let your tears cathartic
burn
these cheeks of mine.
Scour them with scars
of an ancient past
of an ache relived.
Let me bear the dusk
until from the womb,
emerged pure as
the morning dew,
is a love renewed.

Deliverance.

deliverance

Caressed
by the hush
of a wayward tear
emerged
from flames
that once
scalded her eyes
is an innocence lost
a wistfulness retained
a longing diffused
within the brine
of memories.

Weighted
like the dew
upon a thorn
to the force
of an ethereal call
she surrenders.
With strengthened hope
through moistened gaze
down meandered path
she searches
until finally
upon her lips
does she taste
the bittersweetness
of her deliverance.

Symphony.

Curtains raised
upon this stage
lifted shadows
one new day.
Encores played
familiar piece
kindred players
different key.
Life’s gavotte
a gleeful tune
every third beat
ends all too soon.

So what is left
now but to live
moments to take
and those to give.
To learn to love
and risk to lose
each turn a jewel
the heart will prove.
So let us grow
as rhythms flow
this one new day
for us to know.

Let Us Care For One Another…

Dear friends,

May I tell you about someone? It’s about one courageous woman who has a beautiful heart who just happens to have a brain tumor. She has undergone surgery and a long bout of chemoradiation, and although she has fought hard and continues to fight to maintain the kind of ‘normal life’ someone as lucky as me would take for granted, she was forced to reach out.

Continue reading “Let Us Care For One Another…”

Embraced.

His heart unveiled before me,
descended from fields above,
let him free me with eternal songs
and constrain me with his love.

Lilacs amidst the autumn green,
like lilies among the thorns,
let him hold me up in blossom tides
in whose haven I am reborn.

If come the dawn which want of rain,
the hours of trial and drouth,
let him kiss me now as he kissed me then–
nectared kisses of his mouth.

When moistened rivulets meander down
my cheeks onto my neck,
let him dry the tears and calm my soul
with words of sweet caress.

As cashmere skies dissolve in mist
to lower eve’s curtain from above,
let them come; I fear it not–
for I am sick with love.


Assurance.

Frosted stars
proclaimed by breeze,
a dance of farewell
before their queen.
Revealed by moon’s
glow in misted eyes
a wish reflected.
A longing…seeking
to be found.

Thread of secrets,
thrum of time,
silvered braids upon
wounded soul.
A queen
before her horizon
heeds the echoed promise
of a rising sun.
She smiles.

Blessings.

bolivia_family
• La Paz, Bolivia •

This time of year always reminds Puppydoc to be thankful for all those who have come into her life, past and present…to cherish the memories of those who have left and to treasure each moment with those who are here.

Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday week.

🙂

A Blessed Christmas Tragedy.

A bustling hospital. An unexpected arrival. A frigid Christmas Eve.

I was saying goodbye to another patient when fate collided us.

“I’m sorry Father,” I heard your son say, “you can no longer live with us, but here is a nice doctor who will find you a home. Merry Christmas, Dad.”

Pretending not to notice your son’s exasperation as you pleaded for him to stay, I choked down the anguish of my own awareness and proceeded to examine you. 

Bound to the prison of your seat—scared, bewildered, frail—you looked so lost. You asked why, what you did wrong, where your son had gone, not fully comprehending the chaos surrounding. A deep sigh escaped pursed lips as I searched within for an answer that would never come. Taking your hands, contorted by disease, I gazed into eyes dulled by years gone by—their hope fading beneath a glimmer of fear of an iniquitous present and an unpromised future–and I made you a promise I wondered if I myself could keep. 

“It’s going to be okay…you’ll see.” 

But hours pass, and it was not okay—you couldn’t sleep, you wouldn’t eat, and the only sound I heard as I passed the door of your half-vacant room was the resonance of muffled tears.

Behind a mask, I also let myself weep.

*    *    *

Soon the day ended. I entered your room, prepared to make my final rounds. But instead of a bid goodbye, what escaped was an exclamation of the first words that came to my mind.

“Sir, I think we should have a party!”

And that was what we did.

A 90-year-old veteran. A 30-year-old internist. A 20-year-old nurse.

Gathered around your bed, over reconstituted cocoa, you shared with us your history, your joys, your life’s adventures. Over paper cups of chicken broth, I told you my story. As the muted treble of holiday cheer dripped through the bedside radio, together we heralded in, with bittersweetness, the arrival of Christmas Day.

You then took my hand.

As I started to apologize for the late hour, you stopped me. Eyes still glimmering, I hear you laugh, and I believe I finally catch a glimpse of what was the real you.

“Thank you for a blessed Christmas,” you said.

Yes.

A blessed one, indeed.

Dawning.

Snowflakes.
Fading upon blushed flesh,
its rivulets a frame
sketched
for the captive soul.
Gaze glimmering, hope dissolving,
an echo to the void of twilight’s end.
She longs to be released.

A breath divine.
An oasis to a threadbare wish
sculpts bittersweetness
into frosted air.
Embraced by light,
she follows the seraph’s call
and is freed.

 

Tomorrow.

Cheer that blossomed within our hearts,
stirred by your presence at each day’s start,
yearns to wilt when you depart.
But our song will sing again, tomorrow.

The smiles that pierced through saddened guise,
the rays which conquered thundered skies,
they ache to dim neath heaven’s cries.
But the sun will rise again, tomorrow.

For many years our lives you blessed,
but the hour has come for you to rest,
to soar upon hills on golden crest.
So have no fear, tomorrow.

For on that day, I know we shall meet again.

Dedicated to Pam, in memory of Sammy ♥

A Season’s Parting.

Diffused in haze, pristinely breezed
dances autumn amidst the blooms.
A frore caress, its moonlight kiss
beneath the cloak of a morning dew.
Misted rainbow, painted frost-
chilled whispers of a promised hope.
Silvered winds through golden skies
weave bouquet upon a kindled soul.

Hope.

“My life laid before me… my treasons my troth
Wrapped with transcendence in fine sacred cloth
My breath must surrender to cold mortal brew
As wildflowers bend neath pure morning dew.

And then there were angels
Filling the sky
Lifting me upward…

And then I could fly.

These are the words of a fellow blogger and poet.
Words that affect me more than one can know.
So I would like to use this post to thank him today
for being a glimmer in the night…and an inspirer of hope.

Because in our own way, we are all physicians.

He is Steven Michael Sanders,
‘Michael33’

I am asking you to visit him, 
because his poetry will enliven you,
and his story will inspire you.

♣ The Vision of Poets – His poetry blog ♣

♣ Vision of Hope 33 – A blog of his journey ♣

With Love, 

PuppyDoc

Rebirth.

Another year lost.
A heart aches
as longings permeate
hollows of regrets undying.
Heaving winds, haunted whispers,
silvering chimes of a faded song.

The glisten of a promised hope
silhouettes of a pledge divine.
A lover’s aubade, its rising sun
awakens the spirit within.
With teardrops upon her mended quills,
she spreads her silken wings.

An Evening Stroll.

Crescent beauty shaped by night
painting serenity that mystifies.
Eclipsed over meandering tears,
we roam amongst the trees-
a tranquil thought,
a troubled mind freed.
Tomorrow’s song, its rising morn-
 a promise to dawn’s wider seas.

A New Day.


What do we do, come that day,

when walk we must through vacant streets,
when frore and tremulous become the nights,
and windowpanes with autumn’s dew weep?

What do we do, come that day,
when summertide flees from bitter air’s chase,
when even the trees forsake their leaves,
And swallows depart to a fitter place?

For that day has come,

and now we weep,

as the earth reclaims another,

their souls now sleep.

But come winter’s call new snow will fall,
then
autumn’s death will be entombed.

And as morning rays gleam through curtain seams,
New seedlings in our hearts will bloom.

Then we will know that a new day has come. 

This Poem is Dedicated to the Memory of Rhonda Elkins and her daughter, Kaitlyn.

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