Rose Coloured Glass

Once words fizzled in my brain
And they couldn’t come out fast enough
But confusion drove them all away.
Sorrow pulled me under
Curled me in on myself
Washed through me like a flood
Taking everything with it
Leaving only cavernous emptiness behind.

Like a land burnt bare by the raging path of a volcano
My insides impatiently await
The coming
New shoots of life.
I yearn to feel words putting down roots
And sprouting within me again.
Then come the flowers and fruit
Turning the prose within me to poetry once more.

Rosalie Miller 2007

My belief

Where does it come from?

I don’t know.

You are there

You are God

Sometimes that is enough.

It must be enough

There’s nothing else

To hold onto.

You are always there

The one constant

In my spinning/dizzy world.

Is this what is called faith?

© Rosalie Miller 2006

I find

I am subsisting, not living,

While those around me

Live their lives.

I feel

I want to truly live,

But I am too afraid

To reach out my hand.

© Rosalie Miller 1998

We are all so scared

That others will see

Our inadequacies;

So we pretend:

“I am adequate,

More than adequate.

Didn’t you know?”

We get lost in dishonesty

So easily,

And perpetuate the need

For pretense

For dishonesty.

We all try to airbrush our lives.

© Rosalie Miller 2004

I get so disillusioned sometimes

I expected it all to be a fairytale

I could only imagine happy endings

Like in the movies.

© Rosalie Miller 2000