The voice of strength, a birthday poem for Mia St. John by Tracy Diane Miller

I have suffered from anxiety & depression for over 25 years. Most days, I find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Writing is my touchstone, my beacon through my pain. I write poetry daily for others & sometimes for myself to help me navigate through destructive emotions.

June 24th is Mia St. John’s birthday. Here is a birthday poem that I wrote for her. Mia is a passionate, tireless champion for the rights of people suffering from mental illness.

The voice of strength, a birthday poem for @MiaStJohnBoxer by Tracy Diane Miller

The greatest strength is not in the desire to overpower, but to empower.

The greatest strength is not in avoidance and looking pass those in pain, sentencing them to societal disdain.

That voice of strength is the loudest and resonates in the soul through the sound of compassion: we give a piece of our hearts, we give our voices have fallen silent, muted by the arms of mental illness.

Don’t turn away from them.
Embrace them.
Remember them.
Fight for them.
Never stop for them.

The voice of strength is beautiful, undaunted.

It can be heard in the sound of a mother’s unbreakable bond for her son.
For the innocent laughter of a baby,
For the young man in pain, who still, through his art,
continues to shine light along the path of others who can’t find their way,
Bitter vines of despair.

The voice of strength is beautiful, undaunted.
Always there.

Sorrow is not a badge of shame.
Alas, what truth exists in that refrain of pain?
When tears are not shielded nor hoarded from view,
Yes…that’s the clue.

No shame in compassion,
To willingly embrace,
And even carrying grief, even wearing grief on one’s face,
The voice of strength is beautiful, undaunted.

Full of grace.

A mother reaches her arms towards Heaven,
Her eyes fixed towards the sky,
Her son extends his arms towards her, to wipe her tears
when she cries.

He says, “I see you. I feel you. And in Paradise where I now rest. Even in my sorrow. Even in my pain. Please know that I gave the world my best.”

She smiles at him. She whispers. “I know.”

And she does know.

She remembers the little boy and his laughter.

Advertisements

The call of the ocean, a birthday poem for @TheRealGregoryHarrison by Tracy Diane Miller. #amwriting #poetry

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

May 31st is Gregory Harrison’s birthday. In addition to taking this most pleasant walk down memory lane, I wrote a birthday poem for him in his honor.

The call of the ocean, a birthday poem for Gregory Harrison by Tracy Diane Miller. #amwriting #poetry

Unencumbered.
Enduring.
Mysterious.
Free.

The call of the ocean.
I hear the waves, so tender.
Alluring.
Some might say treacherous, like a siren’s song.

Not I.
That lone seashell exiled on the sand,
Deep within that seashell, I suspect she hears
the call of the ocean.

Of my youth,
Of Catalina,
To get lost within the powerful arm of a wave,
I’m not afraid.

It is my past, really.
For I have walked the path of many men,
For I have lived the lives of many men,
I’m an actor, it is my lot.

A past that remembers me.
But as I add on years,
I have never forgot,
The call of the ocean.

If you ask,
Do you know what I still crave?
The arms of the ocean,
Her protective waves.

Of my youth,
Of Catalina.

#amwriting #poetry My heart knows scars but I wear hope, a poem for @Katramdeen by Tracy Diane Miller

I just wrote a new poem for Katherine Ramdeen. I’m thinking of you today.

#amwriting #poetry My heart knows scars but I wear hope, a poem for @Katramdeen by Tracy Diane Miller

I live in a world of paradox,
How can one make sense of hate?
To celebrate the sorrow of man,
Compassion must never be made to wait.

When you see my face or hear my voice,
Listen, for it is compassion I shall give to you,
I’ll wrap my love around your soul,
For together, I know that we will make it through.

My heart knows many scars,
But I also wear hope,
I continue to fight the battles for both you and me,
Because that is how I chose to cope.

My name is Katherine,
But I don’t ask that you memorize my name,
All I ask is that you practice compassion, love and respect,
Then to imprint positivity on your soul all the same.

I believe that compassion is that starting point,
For where we all must truly begin,
Because even if the world seems insane,
If we work together, I know that we can win.

My heart knows many scars,
But I also wear hope,
I continue to fight the battles for both you and me,
Because that is how I chose to cope.

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Out of the darkness, a poem for @mykalday1 by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Out of the darkness, a poem for @mykalday1 by Tracy Diane Miller
I have stumbled through the darkness,
With pain serving as my guide,
When even the joy of writing,
Won’t conceal the sorrow that I feel inside.

I have stumbled through the darkness,
With deafening silence and where nothingness is a hollow word,
When out of the darkness, you appear with kindness,
Your sincerity and compassion I so gratefully heard.

For a girl who writes poetry,
Words are always her meal,
For a friend like you who listens,
She finds herself on the road to heal.

I don’t forget for a moment,
That you genuinely showed that you care,
In those lingering moments of sorrow,
When hope emerges from my despair.

In return, you asked for nothing,
You allowed me the space,
You respected that a crowd I would never want,
Your actions I still embrace.

More precious than a rainbow, a birthday poem for Elise by Tracy Diane Miller

More precious than a rainbow, a birthday poem for Elise
by Tracy Diane Miller

When clouds cry,
And from their tears to grow,
The beautiful colors,
Of a rainbow.

The sun will smile,
At the sky, you know,
But do you what is more precious,
Than a rainbow?

A little girl named Elise,
The joy she brings,
For her family,
Their hearts will sing.

To look into her small face,
To feel the love from her tiny embrace,
No doubt her family would say,
Elise means happiness in every way.

On this day,
We know it is true,
We send our birthday wishes to Elise,
As she turns two.

#amwriting #poetry I remember the me that I used to be, a poem by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry I remember the me that I used to be, a poem
by Tracy Diane Miller

If I could perform a requiem,
With a heavy heart to mourn,
I would remember the me that I used to be,
In my youth where optimism was born.

Each day when I awoke,
With a hopeful smile to adorn my face,
The moments that lie ahead,
A future I desperately chased.

I remember my past,
I remember me,
Often I’m visited by the shadows,
Of whom I used to be.

I remember me,
For I know that cynicism is a learned art,
When betrayal becomes a broken record,
I’ve discovered how to protect my heart.

Once I rushed time,
Where was I even running to?
A future that held such promise,
I thought I would know what to do.

How terribly ironic,
That towards a future I so naively roamed,
Where in the past were my best of times,
When I truly felt at home.

#amwriting #poetry Poetic whispers from a stranger, a poem for @bkerbunny by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry Poetic whispers from a stranger, a poem for @bkerbunny by Tracy Diane Miller
You don’t know me,
But that’s okay
For the poetic whispers from a stranger,
Still have much to say.

Sometimes in this vast world,
And when you wrestle with despair,
There comes the voice of a stranger,
Bringing compassion to show that she cares.

Maybe those whispers from that unseen stranger are faint,
Maybe those whispers are dressed in rhyme,
Yet, the poetic whispers from a stranger,
Are a small comfort at this time.

She is but a shadow,
From across cyberspace,
This girl who writes poetry,
Her Muse who does embrace.

When you hurt,
When sorrow burdens your heart,
The poetic whispers from a stranger,
Heartfelt sentiments she seems to impart.

You don’t know me,
But that’s okay,
For the poetic whispers from a stranger,
Still have much to say.

#HappyBirthdayToniBasilio #amwriting #poetry What might this day hold, a birthday poem for Toni Basilio by Tracy Diane Miller

Today, Sunday, March 12th, is Toni Basilio​​ ‘s birthday. Here is the birthday poem that I wrote for her:

#HappyBirthdayToniBasilio #amwriting #poetry What might this day hold, a birthday poem for Toni Basilio by Tracy Diane Miller
Sometimes, I often wonder: do the sun and the moon conspire,
As they plot the day and the night?
These two entities of opposites,
Mistresses of the dark and the light.

If they do conspire,
What might this day hold?
Are the moments foreshadowed in the clouds,
Or, in the beauty of the sky to behold?

To awake this morning,
As the seconds come rushing by,
Then, to pause with grateful reflection,
At the realization that it’s your birthday is why.

What might this day hold?
I pray for you, this day holds the best it can possibly be,
As you create the warmest of memories,
That are yours for your heart to see.

#amwriting #depression #poetry Each wave is not the same, a poem by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #depression #poetry  Each wave is not the same, a poem
by Tracy Diane Miller

A sea of pain, an endless ebb and flow ,
Following the rhythm of the day and night,
Where shadows of guilt and shame feed on me,
Is hope absent from my sight?

Each wave is not the same
In the quiet of every moment,
There are so many faces out there visible from the waves,
Voices drowning in sorrow; compassion so desperately craved.

Why can’t everyone see the waves?
An endless ebb and flow,
Why do I hide the guilt and shame?
Afraid that others may know.

That is the siren song of Depression
Depression screams, yet others don’t hear the sound,
Each wave is not the same,
Still, it crashes into the ground.

There are so many Depression stories
Hidden, yet begging to be told,
Where people are kept silent by the burden of stigma,
As the pain of Depression grips with its powerful hold.

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Let your heart be your guide, a poem for @sleepingkoala45 by Tracy Diane Miller

Here is a new poem that I just wrote for @sleepingkoala45 :

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Let your heart be your guide, a poem for @sleepingkoala by Tracy Diane Miller
Ugly words,
Hurled with the cruelest force,
When bias is the hateful purpose,
And decency becomes its collision course.

How does one escape?
Why can’t others see?
The pain that prejudice causes
The sorrow that comes to be.

I wish that I could mold a society of kindness,
Alas, from the cold and vindictive souls of prejudice,
I can’t hide,
Rather, to cultivate a peaceful spirit
I choose to let my heart be my guide.

I can only choose my own actions,
I choose to see the richness of diverse people instead,
I choose to see the strength of my convictions,
I choose to be me is how I look ahead.

To let my heart be my guide,
Is not to surrender to neither hate nor wrath,
To let my heart be my guide,
For it is I who is the architect of my own path.