A poem about perspective

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Image by S. Hermann from Pixbay

Not a branch sways,
Not a single leaf flutters
Outside my window there is stillness…
Where have you gone, God of the Wind

At a time of desperation and tears
When we reach out and plead
And need You the most

How am I to believe that you see me
How am I to know that you hear me
How are the birds to soar
I look for a sign and all I see
is a God withdrawn — a creation completely stalled…
Where have you gone, God of the Wind

I step outside to get some air Regroup from…


a poem about transition…

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Photo by Ismail Niyax on Unsplash

One for the road…

The road that leads to nowhere,
Or is it to everywhere?

As spring gently glides into summer.
As the river politely dances into the sea… May I? …

Is it the end or the beginning?
Well, what is every door? Every curtain? Every step?

For in every single morning, you’ve left a day behind
a thousand, ten thousand.

In everything new, there is also an ending…
a one-time favorite that has now lost its glimmer.
But we give our heart to the new, not to the loss —
that’s how we push on.

A new haircut…


The Boss reflects on life and writing

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Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

“And what are songs but dreams, at the end of the day? “ — Bruce Springsteen

I stumbled across an interview with Bruce this week, and that was one of his reflections. He talked about his process of collecting ideas from life, and his process of writing songs. There was so much meaningful insight worth sharing.

“…you take something out the air that isn’t there. There is no existence of it whatsoever, and you make it physical — literally…You have your antenna out…you’re just walking through the world and you’re picking up these signals of emotions and spirit and history…


and the connecting power of “I see you”

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On the way back home from that sunrise, I stopped at Kroger…to get some donuts for my wife and grandson as a special treat. Walking through the aisles there are definitely whispers of “good morning”… some directed to me…others an offering from me to others…strangers.

I am reminded of the beauty of our human connectedness. It is like the air we breathe, but into the soul. In the past, pre-therapy, it was just too easy to sit at home and fuel popular sentiments like “I just don’t like people”. For many years of walking through anxiety and sadness, I suppose…


What I learned from roses (and my therapy)

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Photo by Author

I’ve had roses for many years, but this honestly, embarrassingly, didn’t really sink in until very recently. Roses don’t get healthy by watering the plants, the leaves, and the blooms — they get and stay healthy by watering the roots.

I would go out early in the morning, get the hose ready, and turn it to the correct dial. I would get some level of pride or satisfaction in then misting the hose water onto the plants… making sure I got the leaves and blooms covered with a safe blanket of freshwater to start their day. …


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https://saltandvinephotography.com/

We’ve all heard before how small children spell love: t-i-m-e. As I grow older, I am realizing and being taught that in all honesty, that’s how everyone else spells it too. Time. It’s the most precious resource we have to give.

It is t-i-m-e that I give my grandson when I see him on the weekends. Playing in the sandbox, holding him in my arms when he cries, making believe with his tractors and trains. For my granddaughter, my attending her specially prepared tea party this week as an honored guest meant quite a lot to her, that was very…


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Know what you believe,” I used to tell my teenage daughter. You might not have all the answers, and some things you clearly can say you just don’t know. But at least “know what you know”. Own it and use it as a foundation. It’s okay to just say, “I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this…” and to only proclaim that which you are sure of in your own heart and life.

The point is that I choose to live a life based on principle — but I have to know what those principles are and…


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Revised Nov 2019

When your mom passes away, your life is never the same.I guess we think it will return to normal, after the post-death assembly line activities have concluded and the prescribed grieving period has expired. But it doesn’t.

My own mom’s final breath was at home, in her own bed, my two sisters and I at the foot, and her husband of thirty-six years by her side holding her hand. Even Mom’s cat had climbed up on the bed and laid in a cuddled circle, showing support in the only way he knew how. …

Terrence Litwiller

new writer… old soul… memoirs and reflections from the journey to find my true heart and purpose and to live a life of significance

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