Life, Poetry

Your Image…

The images of those we have lost remain etched in our minds of how they were, not how they would be if they had not gone away. 💔

#Memories #GriefMatters #JustBelieve #HopeLives #LoveChangesPeople #Poetry

Life, Poetry

You Never Get Over It

The Young Girl

“That I Long Ago Wed and Who Drove Me Mad”

~Mark W. Schutter ©September 2018


The young girl that I long ago wed

Promising to love and cherish

Until death do us part

There was truth in those words I said


The young girl I held safe in my arms

When she cried from hurt

While our love grew

I attempted to shield her from harm


The young girl who held nothing back

We feasted on love and lust

Unaware fate conspired

To cleave two souls and fade to black


The young girl who endured the pain

Of the cancerous disease that arose

A future uncertain

And rarely did she ever complain


The young girl in a faithful anguish

Moments of joy midst affliction

As her star began to fade

A beautiful life now left to languish


The young girl I gently held her hand

Watching as life slowly slipped away

Until her last breath

And it was all I could do to stand


The young girl I gently closed her eyes

No more sight and nothing to see

Worlds she now explores

With eyes that went blank when she died


The young girl from who I slowly turned away

My heart beat loud as I silently wept

The long walk leaving behind

Every dream gone and I could not stay


The young girl is now just a lifeless shell

All the memories a distant reverie

My heart now shattered

Knowing that I have entered hell


The young girl lies tranquil in a wooden box

All prettied up in peaceful repose

Her struggle now done

A life put away in a human breadbox


The young girl lay for everyone to see

A lifeless corpse is all that is left

My strength now gone

Sitting front and center is killing me


The young girl lies while they all file past

Alone I stare into the dark void

My hopes now taken

The answer was no to each prayer I asked


The young girl towards her I slowly reach out

Placing a single red rose upon her chest

Those red lips I kissed

They are cold and stiff she is gone no doubt


The young girl to ashes and dust she returns

The small container I must carry away

Life’s arc from birth to death

In the light of time she will forever burn


The young girl I take over land and sea afar

To a place where the waters are alive

Calling forth another life

A dance beckons journeying to the stars


The young girl now flies free in the slipstream

Her ashes spread to eternities embrace

Promises kept of a dying wish

Into the undiscovered now just a dream


The young girl who left me a wandering nomad

I carry hope of once and a future again

I chose the reality of love

And the young girl who drove me mad

~The End


Death and grief; you accept it, you learn to live with it and you go on, but you never get over it. I know this all too well from my own experiences over the last twenty-five years. This poem came to me late one night before drifting off and I wrote it down the next day with very little editing. I still remember so much as if it happened yesterday and it is the smallest of things that my memories fixate on and my mind sees with a surreal clarity.

Thanks for reading and just believe that hope lives. ~M

Life, Writing

Grief, Loss, Triggers and Other Stuff

I wrote this post with tears behind my eyes. Although they were wide open I squeezed them tight so that no one can see and nothing leaks out that would give away my feelings. Yes, I am hiding, but also writing. A frenzy of emotional free writing.

I am angry! I am sad! I am frustrated and …

My stomach is in knots, my muscles are tense. I feel the passion surging inside of me and I am afraid of it spilling out into a fit of rage. While my mind spins with questions that have no answers, for I long ago learned there are none. 

My Destiny

Triggers come in all sorts of ways. A voice, a song, a memory, a word. 

Maybe it’s just me as I read posts on social media encouraging others to ‘copy and paste’ in honor or remembrance of something or someone. Especially in honor of someone who is battling or has lost a battle with cancer with the hashtag #cancersucks or something.

This is my story, my reality and my life.

I lost someone to cancer many years ago and yes cancer sucks. Not a day goes by that something doesn’t remind me of her. When she died, she left a hole in my heart. I watched the traditional treatments wreck and devastate her body, mind and spirit. And in the end, it did nothing to prolong her life nor improve the quality of her life. 

So, yes, I am jaded.


My experience may be vastly different from others. Yet, this is my story, not theirs and this is my voice that is screaming in the silence of unanswered questions. Nighttime skies as dark as death where stars twinkle on unconcerned and the cold vastness reveals no measure of comfort to assuage my pain and longing.

Posting in honor of someone, does nothing. Really, that’s the best you can do?

Be careful with your words, your images, your pictures and posts you share. Everyone experiences things differently. Triggers! No two people experience life in exactly the same way. There is no comfort in false words of hope and solace. We toss around platitudes like confetti in the wind, left to fall and be carried where they will. With no thought of those on the receiving end, intentional or not, will catch the true meaning of our hearts.

Yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am … hell I don’t know what I am.

I do know that I am strong and this will not defeat me. I will bang a drum for those we have lost and never assume to understand someone else’s experience and pain. For I never would expect the two to be the same. #JustBelieve #HopeLives



I wanna know…


“I wanna know, will you remember me when forever comes and goes?”

We have all made promises to do this or that. Promises we swore we would keep forever.

In the end forever comes and goes.

We are left alone, holding onto the empty promises made by others. Or perhaps we broke our own promises with our own hands.

Either way, I believe the question remains that haunts each of us.

Will you remember me?