Worry, riding on her shoulder
like an unrelenting jockey,
cracks the whip and digs his heels
into her neck. The pain is pounding
louder than the thund’ring hoofbeats,
whooshing through her veins and muscles,
pushing through the cloud of logic —
Blinders taut, she’s hearing only
“Faster, faster! Harder, harder!”
Clamoring for front and center,
pressing for the winner’s circle,
Ego’s bellows drown Discernment.
Past Oblivion and further,
getting there before Contentment
catches up is all that matters.
Mary Boren, 2012
“I am never upset for the reason I think.” – A Course in Miracles
When the hairdresser clips you entirely too close;
when your child shows a penchant for sass;
when the seminar speaker is waxing verbose;
when your hero falls flat on his ass …
and a flood of emotion’s creating a stink
in your mind, STOP! Consider the fact
that you’re never upset for the reason you think.
You can choose how you want to react.
If you scrape off the crust of resentment or rage,
you’ll uncover a cowering imp
that is clutching a plagiarized script. On the stage,
he’s an icon. Exposed, he’s a wimp.
His persona’s all hype — “too ferocious to tame” —
but he only appears to exist
in the absence of love. Simply call him by name,
“little fear,” and he’ll fade into mist.
Mary Boren, 2010
As wounded soldiers convalesce
and diagnostic tools progress,
your menace, Post Traumatic Stress,
must be endured.
We’re seeing more and knowing less
on how you’re cured.
For though the body may be whole,
when memories exact their toll
on thinking, you erode the soul
with frozen screams.
Anxiety usurps control
of conscious streams.
O malady of modern days,
you paint a picture that portrays
demolished dreams, a deep malaise
that’s darker than
the radiance of hope ablaze
in heaven’s span.
But, lifting up each terrified,
mistreated child, each battered bride
and broken man to safety’s side
above the storm,
we pray that healing far and wide
becomes the norm.
Mary Boren, 2012
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