MO ( / )

Special Sister

My special sister,
I want you to know how much you mean to me.

My special sister,
has strength and courage her whole family can see.

My special sister,
showed us all how to handle life's blows.

My special sister,
took it all in stride, smiled,
and said, “That’s how it goes”.

My special sister,
through all her pain,
never once gave up or complained.

My special sister,
has dignity, warmth,
and inner beauty that can't be explained.

My special sister,
with all she was going through,
always thought of others.

My special sister,
always took time to give of herself to friends,
sisters and brothers.

My special sister,
was always there with her kind thoughts,
deeds, and caring.

My special sister,
is well known and loved for her capacity for sharing.

My special sister,
needs to know how much she means to those who love her,
especially me.

My special sister's,
strength, courage,
and beauty are a shining example for all to see.

My special sister,
has carried a heavy burden for quite a long while.

My special sister,
would not allow us to share any of her pain but always her smile.

My special sister,
is surely a guardian angel sent from above.

My special sister,
these heartfelt words are for you,
from all of us who care,
with all our love.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 11

Comments (11)

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees, A quiet house, some green and modest acres A little way from every troubling town, A little way from factories, schools, laments. I would have time, I thought, and time to spare, With only streams and birds for company, To build out of my life a few wild stanzas. And then it came to me, that so was death, A little way away from everywhere. ––Mary Oliver
great poetic expression- There is a thing in me still dreams of trees. But let it go. Homesick for moderation, Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away. If any find solution, let him tell it. Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation Where, as the times implore our true involvement, The blades of every crisis point the way. I would it were not so, but so it is. Who ever made music of a mild day? ––Mary Oliver
Who is reading this Too robotically
We all must win the battle we face with accepting our mortality. It is ironically what sets us free. At a certain point we realize we are not invincible. As nice as it would be to live freely as if we were, we know that in the back of our minds denial is eating away at us, eventually giving way to reveal the truth. What we decide to do with our own truth is ultimately our own decision, but the effects of the decision we make means the difference between a truly fufuilling life and a life of desolate meaninglessness.
This is a really beautiful poem and has a lovely flow to it. Andrew 10!
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