Not keeping my mouth shut when I should always brought me more trouble than a dust storm, among other things.
Mother told me on one of her bad days that I was born under a black cloud.
That must be the reason there is no love for me in the house.
It seems that trouble walks beside me, with the devil just ahead.
I think my mother might be right, for following the devil is making the road ahead like walking under the shadow of a black cloud, a storm forever raging inside my head.
Until the day I met an angel called Alice.
She picked me up from the gutter and gave me shelter.
She also gave me her heart.
I am found, the black cloud vanished, the storm no longer rages inside my head. The devil no longer walks ahead of me.
The sky above takes on a different colour. If I am wearing rose-tinted glasses, may I never remove them…
Anita Dawes 2018
Our parents’ words carve deeply into our souls, but their perceptions (and whatever reflections they might be of their own struggles and blind spots) do not need to become our destiny. So glad for Alice. So glad for you. 🙂
Thank you so much…
Love the poem too.Starts with a very bad feeling, but ends – and this is best in my meaning – nice. Thank you for sharing, and have a great weekend. Michael
Thank you Michael…
Great piece, Anita. Part poem, part prose… and so ‘direct’.
Thanks Steve…