My body refuses to function,
From my navel down,
I can’t do anything,
I’m seized up,
I’m only managing to lie down,
I sprained my lower back,
The inflammation still abounds,
Oh the pain is unbearable,
Especially when my kids playing on the ground.
I can’t even move,
I feel so invalid,
I can barely function,
But I have so much to do.
I wonder if the pain is there from stress in the past year,
The trauma, the events,
Captured in my lower back,
There because that’s where I laboured,
It may have been injured.
So my feelings stuck in my body,
Tight n tense,
Clearly unprocessed and jarred.
Upright, uptight.
Stabbing pain as inflammation shoots through,
Burning and scraping with it’s claws,
My poor back, makes me roar.
Garlic, tumeric, ginger infused honey,
To help my inflammation become at bay.
Got me through so many hard times before.
This stuff keeps my soul sunny, hey.
My whole lower self is tight, seized up,
An aftermath of it fighting itself,
Working too hard,
The underside of being an independent woman,
My body can’t hack it any more,
But the man I had was not quite so helpful,
Only making me feel like his mother,
How I yearned for his help, his assistance his hands to support me through the hard times,
He ran away. Leaving me with all the bits,
The mental mess to deal with of having those hard times.
How I wanted him to stick by me.
Be my rock,
Listen to me,
Not question n doubt me.
Asking for help fell on deaf ears too long,
My body not coping, almost breaking,
But to him it must be that I was cheating,
No my body’s not coping,
I’ve been saying all along,
Pregnancy stuff, bodys not strong,
Muscles are weaker and hope not for prolapse,
It didn’t but now my body feels like it’s in collapse.
Friends got me magnesium,
Pain releif cream, starting to feel better,
Hours later I can fully function,
Feeling better as I go,
I’m not better still
Just recovering,
On a pill.
Two weeks I’ve got to go,
Take it easy, with the kids in tow,
My body is not once what it use to be,
How long can my body cope with me being me,
I must change my mindset,
Help to be sought,
I must lean on my family n friends,
My only resource,
I have got to be strong,
Take it as it comes,
Breathe through the rest,
While I beat to my own drum.
Author: In Her Heart Healing
Life Works
Ain’t it strange looking back on life,
How things go, how things change,
The old and the new,
Time mixed up like stew,
And by your side remain your faithful crew.
How things work, and how they end,
How everything old is new again.
A fresh perspective,
A new beginning,
The breath of life,
The old fades away,
The new temporarily stays.
The pain from last year,
The doctors bad words,
The horrible shit,
Is fading away.
I thought I’d miss it,
I thought I’d forget,
But those memories become faded in my head.
My photos lost forever,
Hidden away in a book,
No longer in my phone,
It amputated it’s storage memory.
Memories, pain, discomfort, muck,
No longer bright or bold,
Or at the touch of a button on my phone.
The pain dispersed,
Memories not lost,
But no longer in my face,
Physically they are easily replaced.
Almost right on a year on now,
I have a new phone,
The old memories have gone,
Today we get home from our last minute get away,
Where new memories where made,
Moments captured,
Bright and bold memories are now front of face.
I can move on from that horrible space.
The Generational Blessing
I am not my mum
But my mum was me,
I can’t be in my mother’s shoes,
But she has the greatest empathy for me.
As a woman in her thirties,
Having a preteen daughter,
I can now see what my mum sees in me,
For I was her,
That girl in the same shoes,
Mskin choices and didn’t know what to choose,
Doubting myself and my ways,
For days and days,
Those memories don’t fade,
To see my girl,
Where I was in time,
For the choice’s she makes,
That are not mine,
For the path she chooses is no less or more,
It’s just another path this girl hasn’t yet explored.
Back to my mother,
Her empathy in uproar,
As she feels my pain,
As I lay with my boy,
She knows what I need,
She’s been here before,
She was the thirty year old girl,
Exploring the world.
Worth
For what are you worth little pheasant mam
Only as much as you can do,
Only worth a penny or two,
Worth as much as kings daughter
Or just enough to make a quarter…
How do you measure your own worth,
In words,
In writing,
In silver,
How high are you on your perch.
Is a ten dollar a ten dollar,
Even when it’s crushed,
Even when it’s dropping wet,
Mushed up in some mud,
What about when its broken,
Ripped or torn apart,
Or put in someone’s pocket and caught under a fart,
Does a ten dollar lose its value,
When it’s been taped back up together,
What about a loved one,
How much are they worth to you…
So why don’t I value myself the same way I value those,
Those loved ones and mundane things around me,
Why don’t I see myself from glasses made in rose,
I find myself constantly fighting myself in a plea to see myself as those,
For a place for me to be,
Up in my own authority,
To uphold myself and my dignity,
In my own value of liberty…
And why can’t I just know my own value I hold,
When dragged into the masses,
I feel so darn cold,
So much undeserving,
So I only see my flaws,
Every little detail I hold up to behold,
Every part is scrutinized,
Under my own authority,
And why do I never feel enough,
No matter how much thought swapping I do,
It’s mostly surface level stuff,
No impact on my heart,
And maybe, just maybe one day I’ll write my appreciation to myself from my heart.
Unaccountability
One thing I am sick of is the lack of accountability,
The broken systems no one made,
The no signatures on the heavily implied computer generated letters no one signed…
Shoving up in my face, my business
Telling me what their computer decides,
Ring and complain,
Oh it’s my game day.
I’m the one taking them for a ride.
AI is so not my thing,
Sure it may have a place,
If it was like The Jetsons days
Where the AI cleaned up their trash…
Reality AI I feel has too much run,
Those that create it keep accountability to none,
If you’re on the receiving end of something that mucks up,
Well, it’s my fault I could have done more.
Can’t complain, because it’s no one’s fault,
They just work in the system,
They can’t bring it to a halt,
But when AI messes with livelihoods at hand,
Stuff up payment transactions,
Causing families not to eat,
And the person who made such a mess,
Imperfect, perfect for them at that end…
Those who wish to create something good enough it’s barely scraping by, if it was something else would we drop the matter?
Seriously drops in letters from AI,
They are gonna get a call upon the complaints line!
Fall or Faith.
No one has the right to tell you,
What to think of feel about someone who has harmed you,
As I find my voice,
As I trust my soul,
As I fumble over the workings out of this world,
There’s one thing, that I’m told absolutely reins true,
Do not believe in those that have fooled you,
Though, they might say that they are the best,
To trust them, and to give them your faith,
But I’m not sorry to say, my faith lies in God today, tomorrow and always,
Whatever happens I can turn to him,
I talk to him,
Oh look, here he is right now,
Coming today,
To say,
Nothing is the matter,
Don’t fall for their lies,
For little or for greater,
I’m the one your creator,
Have a little faith,
Trust me I’ve got your face held in my hand.
And today we thank you God,
For your works upon this earth,
We have your hand to hold,
Our faith be told,
Because with you we can become bold.
~~~
If you need to take a moment to pray about your situation, of if you need me to pray for you, reach out below. Send me a message and I’ll keep you in my prayers.
Faithful Predictions
Our bodies are multidimensional,
They are not singular sequence of strands,
So many processes going on,
Its comolex but as doctors don’t seem to understand,
They mostly work on one level playing field,
Not understand near anything else,
It’s gotta be what they specialize in only,
And to them, in their opinion, your fate is sealed.
You know how many times I’ve heard people overcome,
Troublesome, gloom-some, awful noted endings,
That have not come to be.
They didn’t believe their doctor,
Pushing for answers more,
Seeking in the reality,
One of course which they adore.
They seek, they find, they do, they mend,
From gut healing, to immune boosting,
But that’s not what the doctors would recommend….
They’d rather your child, with a low immune system like mine,
Be fat, and fed less nutrients,
But absolutely not on my time!
These guys are specialists,
So why did I not listen, to those that “knew best”,
Those people don’t love my kid, and right on, this mumma knows best.
I didn’t listen, I walked away, I did what I need best,
My child with a low immune system?
She only got the best!
She didn’t go on formula, so the nutritionist could track her calories easily,
Absolutely not, she stayed on breast milk,
With a huge nutrition dense content.
And what where the results?
Kind of annoying if you must know.
To have three hour round trips for 15 minute appointments with these people “in the know”…
For them to be surprised, no chest infractions yet?
No sir, are you surprised? You’re the specialist….
It’s not surprising to me, I gave my child the best.
I boosted her immune system,
And gave her body the best.
She has never been hospitalized, as they predicted,
From a common cold or flu,
No ear infections,
No chest infections,
Nothing of the messed up stew that the specialists predicted…
And to my boy,
Yes doctors have their place, some are very good,
But I still can’t trust them face to face,
They might have saved my boys life,
Only because I asked God to send angels below,
To work with him and comfort him in the slew that was the awful show…
An infant boy, the most dehydrated in the world.
No study done ever, on a baby so bad.
And yes there is shame,
But only because those doctors said,
The fact I had my child was enough cause for them to emotionally whack me on the head….
But as their science and knowledge would say,
My son’s a miracle, and it was they themselves that saved the day…
They can’t say God’s angles where there,
Guiding their hands, and the tiny tubes every single day….
That’s not science they might just say.
Unexplainable, to science, are two of my kids,
And I’ve heard of many others, who where not meant to live…
So when it comes to your story,
Just watch what you are told,
Because not everyone’s predictions are true as they are told.
In Her Heart Healing 
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