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      Hi all,  I'm sure you've noticed some changes in the forums. We've again had to do some updates, so that's why things may look a little different. Nothing major should have changed.  Also, we are going to start adding advertisements sensitive to our community on the boards. This is something we are experimenting with, and we will certainly make sure they are in the best interests of everyone. We want to make sure our forums continue to stay accessible and cost free to all of our members, and this is a way to ensure this.  If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to privately message me or email me at Konnie@beyondindigo.com.  As always, we will be here with you, ModKonnie

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Found 2 results

  1. I Still Live

    As I inch closer and closer to the two-year anniversary of my boyfriend's motorcycle accident (the 23rd of this month), I've been spending a lot of time pouring over old notes, pictures, and the like. A few minutes ago, I ran across this poem I wrote as part of the creative writing class I was enrolled in during the semester following the accident. At the time, the idea of "still living" was a hopeful abstract; in many ways, I guess it still is. However, there's something poignant and heartbreaking and beautiful about knowing that everything I felt in those moments of raw anguish and feebleness -- the good and the bad -- still exists inside me after all these months. Anyway, I thought I'd share the poem here with you guys in the hopes that someone will relate to it, and that maybe it will provide some of the solidarity we come to this group searching for. I know many of you are still in the very early processes of grieving, when everything stings bitterly pretty much every moment of every day. I'm not here to tell you it gets simpler with time -- it doesn't. The hurt is still there, the love and longing is all still there. However, I do think we learn to deal with our transformed lives. The weight we carry makes us weak and slow at times, but it also makes us stronger. Two years later, through the best and worst days, I'm still living. Sure, sometimes participating in life involves a serious commitment, a struggle, or maybe even, sometimes, having enough respect for my mental health to throw my hands up and allow myself to allow the waves of grief to crash over me; but I'm still breathing, still finding reasons to laugh, still enjoying the way the birds sound when they wake me up in the morning and the crickets outside my window late at night when I can't sleep... So I guess what I'm saying is, that's something at least. Time won't really heal our wounds, but we do have the conscious choice to give up or to commit to allowing the pain to turn us into more conscientious, intuitive, strong people. I Still Live I still live beneath the weeping willow tree In the yard you only ever saw in photographs; Where I spent my day the day the phone rang and I Couldn't say a word. And my tree, My tree wept with me. I still live in memories of you, So supple and smooth, Your ocean eyes, your autumn curls, I still live in a world Where young love grows old, sometimes, Where you and I live for crisp breeze, bright sunlight. I still live in the cracks of cobblestone streets I cannot return to. I still live beneath you On the banks of the river near your grandmother's home, You swore our love was like the sea flowing on and on, and I knew you jinxed it. But I wanted to believe it. I still live, Though lips grow cold and Hell on my heels feels hot, I still live though you do not, Still spend my time thinking, Still singing Every song I ever wrote for you at the top of my lungs like a hymn. I begin To speak your name but my voice wears thin, and I miss you, But I get through. I still live, as best I can. I understand That your ripe blood smeared on the fresh green grass Is a piece of our past, And a part of this moment. I still live alone, but I know that Someday, that might change, And that's okay. I still live each day like every breath is a miracle, Something spiritual. I've been told that, somehow, you're there, Be it in Heaven or the clean mountain air, So I carry your face in my heart like a locket, Keep your smile in my pocket, Pull it out when I desperately need A reason To believe. I still live beneath the weeping willow tree.