¡How Hive feels now starting on Wednesdays! ...it's my MeMe #289
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A tiny pigeon with a gleam of hope in my eye.
Each Thursday dawns with promise, then fades to gray.
As my kin drift away, leaving me to sway.
Now they drift away into the night.
Leaving me hungry, not just for food,
But for the love that once filled my head.
A silence so loud, where love should have been.
I watch the skies, waiting, longing, forlorn.
For a touch, a whisper, a promise reborn.
The world feels colder as hope dissolves.
No crumbs to nourish my belly’s plea.
No new knowledge to feed my brain.
No song to lift my spirits free.
Of joy, of trust, of yesterday.
And in this loneliness, I see so clear.
The absence of care eclipses my fear.
A whisper that someday, someone knows.
That even in abandonment’s rain.
Hope can bloom through sorrow’s pain.
A whisper of strength amid the pains.
For even in shadows, hope softly sings.
Someday I’ll spread my wings and find new springs.
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When I was a child there were words of wisdom I was taught:
Sticks and stones may break My bones, but words will never hurt Me.
And indeed, I learned that I choose how I feel about what Others say. I can take Others' words and choose to feel angry, hurt, or any other emotion. I can choose to laugh. I can choose to ignore the words...
Trying to pass My responsibility onto the speaker is a poor choice... "You made Me (choose to) feel hurt! It's all Your fault that I (chose to) hit You!" Seriously.