June 28, 2005

Home

Child walks down to the river
looks out as far as she can see
draws each breath as if it were the last
And wipes away the tears across her sleeve
She can see where the river crawls to the sea
Like a baby into mother’s care
Somehow the longing is so far away
The innocence so wasted and aware

look at the child with the dream in her eyes
Holding it deep inside her

Thinking about home...
So much anger so deeply ingrained
Seemed a burden that was hers alone
She didn’t think that there was anything wrong
With wanting a life that she could call her own
How could I explain? You would not want to hear.
You wouldn’t listen if I talked anyway
For you were too weighed down by your own fears

And look at the child with the dream in her eyes
Holding it deep inside her

Home...

14 comments:

  1. Ha, firstites! :)
    (sorry, it doesn't happen too often LOL)

    That's beautiful - did you write it? I love it, great work!

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  2. Hey beautiful. Wonderful words. And I'm caught up on all the posts I missed in the last few weeks.

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  3. very nice thoughts celti... soothing I think. ;)

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  4. Celti,

    That's great stuff. It would sooo make a great song! Something pretty on the classical guitar, with maybe some soft strings in the background and light percussion.

    Very nice!

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  5. Gosh....much deeper....and much more sensical than the drivel I do....lol......nice!!

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  6. I don't know if the child is you, but that's a very moving view of a lonely child. I want to stop her from feeling so isolated, tell her it's ok.

    the river crawls to the sea
    Like a baby into mother’s care


    Powerful words. Thanks for sharing them, Celti.

    At least she's keeping the dream of having a place to call home. There's hope, even after the anger. :)

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  7. You just seem to nail the words to my soul right up there on your blog.

    "Strumming my face with her fingers....singing my life with her words...killing me softly with her song..killing me softly...with her song...writing my whole life in her words...killing me softly...with her song...." comes to mind.

    *HUGS to the inner child that searches for home*

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  8. Hate days like this sweetie. Im here..

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  9. Beautiful and sad...
    I'll call you in a bit sweetie.

    I hope all is well.

    Hug

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  10. Celti, I love how you can be so frivolous and fun on one day (namely short-attention-span days), and beautiful, serious and lyrical the next.

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