Plight...a poem

(Bing Image-not my own)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plight
By MR aka Naila Moon

It is not a culture I am removed from
I see it all too well
These people are living
In virtual hells.

Eyes so sad
With untold stories
Refusing to speak
Of the atrocities they've seen.

Bodies stuck in the muck
Of a gravitational pool
That eats away at their very existence.

Rain
Snow
Heat
Shows no mercy.

This is
The plight of homelessness.

Written November 2010
First publish February 20, 2011
Copyright MR aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf 
All rights reserved

Life's Image... a story

Life’s Image

Bing images (not my own photo)

Jan 12, 1968

Rubbing her tummy the woman says, “Honey, I really think we need to get to the hospital. You see our baby right here. She wants to come into the world right now! “

Jan 12, 1973

Look at me Mommy. Do I look pretty for my 5^th birthday? I brushed my curly brown hair. Did I do a good job? Am I getting lots of presents? I want to be a teacher when I grow up. Daddy picked my dress out, do you like it Mommy?

Jan 12, 1978

Mom says Uncle Jim is coming over today to have my 10^th birthday party with me.   I think I am going to give him one of these funny hats Mom bought for me. I know he will wear it, he always does.  He always jokes with me and tells me that he is still mad at me for not being born on his birthday. He said I was just being stubborn and came out a day later.  I guess we can blow out candles together again.

Jan 12, 1988

Wow, look at us, my beautiful new daughter and me a new wife.  I cannot believe I am only 20 today and I have this beautiful child. Yes, I think I agree, her eyes do look like mine. They are dark and mysterious.  Mom gave me some money for my birthday. I suppose I will have to use it and go buy her some diapers.

Jan 12, 1998

Oh my, is this really me? Am I really 30?  Where has the time gone?

Oh my gosh! My hair has streaks of gray in it. Oh, I wish I was 20 pounds lighter. I hate how I look. I wonder, will anyone ever love me again with the way I look? I am never looking in a mirror again!  

Jan 12, 2008

Wow, I am 40 today.  I hope my makeup looks right. My daughter has this surprise party for me that I am not supposed to know about and I want to look just right.  Life has been kind of tough up until now. I have had heart ache and joy in this many years.  So many people I know that are my same age are lamenting over becoming 40.  I can’t! In fact I am rejoicing in this.  My children are grown and I have done the best I could by them. Now, it is my time. It is my time to live my life and enjoy it.  I get to start a new chapter in life and I certainly still have a whole lot of life to live. Happy birthday to me!

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Post Script: Jan. 12, 2011

Here it is my 43rd birthday and oh how far I have come. Most all of the events I wrote about above are true. Since 2008 when I originally wrote this, I have since been married to the love of my life, Tamirisc and we recently celebrated out 2nd anniversary. I also am now a grandmother to the sweetest and adorable grand-daughter ever. I am a truly blessed woman and could not be happier.

Originally Written by MR ...aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf on January 12, 2008

Rewritten on January 12, 2011

all rights reserved

A young child's question...

It was a particularly cold and blustery Christmas season. There was a good 5-6 inches of snow on the ground but it was totally beautiful.


My parents lived on a corner street, as they still do. It was not uncommon for them to decorate for the Christmas season. In fact, it was not uncommon for them to ask me to help decorate outside. I am here to tell you, sometimes that was a very cold thing to do.


This particular season, I decided to buy my parents an early gift. I bought them a complete manger scene for the front of their house.  The figures were about two to three foot in height but everyone was there. Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, camels, and the whole gang of Wise Men. Yep, everyone was present.


My Mother thought it to be the greatest present ever. In fact, they were the only house on the entire street that even had a manger scene. It really did look lovely among the bushes that were growing outside their home. The baby Jesus was of course placed in the middle of the bushes as of course he was the star of the show.


The figures all lit up and shown brightly from the road. I was truly proud that I was able to get this for my parents.


One evening, later in the week, my two children, my parents and I went out for the evening. As was custom, all the lights outside stayed on.
As we left, I took a gaze at the new manger. Something seemed wrong but I could not figure it out. I thought maybe the wind had shifted things around or something like it. We continued on our journey for the evening but a nagging feeling kept at me for the night and I mentioned it to my parents.


Upon returning, I went out front where the manger was placed and looked very carefully at it.  Yes, there was Mary and Joseph. There was a sheep and wait...where was the baby Jesus? Oh and where was one of the Wise men?


I stared in disbelief. What, no Jesus?  I called to my parents and told them he was missing. My children were there too and my son asked the most simplest of questions. 

"Mom, who stole baby Jesus?"


I saw faint tears welling up in his eyes as he was only about 4 years old and could not understand why someone would do such a thing.
I certainly had no answer for him. I simply could not understand either.


We called the local police to report the theft, the kidnapping...what was it really?  The police officer that arrived took our report and then stated that he thought what had occurred was an atrocity and if the person who did it was ever caught that he hoped they would rot in jail.


For the next few days after, I felt a sense of loss and could only think of my son's question.  Did he really believe because this representation had been stolen from us that Jesus would not be present at Christmas?


I mulled those thoughts over for quite a long time. I then sat down with him and spoke with him as best as I could for a 4 year old to understand.


I told he and his sister this:
I do not know why someone would steal from us and steal something that represented someone precious to us.  I hoped that by that person having baby Jesus, they would find happiness in their heart.


I went on to say, that even though the "plastic Jesus" was taken,  that did not mean that Jesus would not be born for all of us. That the real baby Jesus was born and came in to the world to be here among us and that we hold the real person always in our hearts. We do not need the plastic version to know that and no one can steal that from us.


I am sure that he did not understand what I really meant but he was satisfied with my answer. Me? I never forgot my answer either and held the real person in my heart forever more.
------------------------------------------------------------
Post script:
It is now 17 years later after this incident occurred.  I remember it as if it was yesterday. A new manger was bought a year later. See the photo I took of it above.


The question remains have we let people steal the baby Jesus from our hearts or have we remember that he did indeed come here in the form of a child.


Peace and blessings to you all...
Naila Moon
Written December 15, 2010

Snowy Day...a poem

photo courtesy of Tamirisc

Tonight there are beautiful snowflakes
Falling around my head
Curling
Swirling
Leaving nothing dead.

As pretty as the snow is
I really do regret
That I had not stayed home                            
And we had never met.

I hate snow.
I hate snow!
I really, really do
But then again
I suppose
It is much better being out in it
Than at home with that damn flu.
---------------------------------------------
Written by MR...aka Naila Moon
Originally written October 21, 2009
Rewritten November 26, 2010

An Oh So True Thanksgiving Story

Bing Image (not my own)

The year was 1987 and I was a brand new mother to a beautiful baby girl who was only about 3 weeks old. Thanksgiving was upon us and I was to have my first Thanksgiving holiday weekend with a family I had never met before. 

Very early that morning my then soon-to -be husband and I took our lovely daughter and jammed into a car full of new in- laws and traveled what seemed like eternity to Nashville, Tennessee.  Our destination was Uncle Ronnie’s house.  He literally lived out in God’s country, Nashville. 

We arrived about mid-day to all sorts of uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents. It was not just any ole’ Thanksgiving. No, it was a family reunion! I thought my family was big, but this was plain ridiculous! See, Uncle Ronnie was only one of six children and most of those children had children. However, my daughter was a first Great-Granddaughter and her arrival was special. 

The first person I met was Grandma A. who quickly took my baby from me and proceeded to pass her around like a football. Grandma A. is a sweet, loveable lady with a very loud voice. So, when I first met her, she scared me. Also, being a new mother and unsure of things, I was not too keen on these people handling my child.
 

Uncle Ronnie was all too happy to have everyone there for this was the first time that he hosted a Thanksgiving dinner at his place or for that matter ever. He made sure I was quite comfortable. The fact was Uncle Ronnie’s house was very small, actually too small to hold so many people. It had only two small bedrooms in it and was out in the woods. The kitchen was big enough for about five people but certainly not the size of this family. Since I was new mom and new family member, I got the only bedroom available for anyone.
 

Now this normally would pose a huge problem for most people but not Uncle Ronnie. See, Uncle Ronnie worked for some well-known people in Nashville and knew some very well known people.
 

 The fact was Uncle Ronnie drove the personal bus for Randy Travis when he was touring across country. Now as much as that impressed me, what impressed me more was he had also driven for years for Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton and the Judds.  What Uncle Ronnie did was even more fantastic. To solve the sleeping room problem, Uncle Ronnie simply called up Kenny Rogers and told him about his hosting of the family Thanksgiving and that he needed some sleeping quarters for the weekend. Kenny Rogers actually lent his personal touring bus to Uncle Ronnie for the family and went one further and gave the family tickets to the Grand Ole Opry.
 

I simply could not believe I was looking at this bus. Stepping on to this bus was like a movie set in itself. It slept 10 people comfortably. It was all in gold and royal blue but the most awesome thing about it was the round table in the middle of the bus. The table was solid gold. In the middle of it was two gold pistols used in Kenny Roger’s “Gambler” movie, along with in-laid gold coins. The table was topped in glass. It was something beautiful to behold. To say the least, all of us were just awe struck. 

With this entire fancy-ness going around, Uncle Ronnie announced that we would be eating on the good china. I could only imagine what this looked like considering what I had just seen with that bus.
Uncle Ronnie opened a drawer and pulled out…mismatched colored forks and mismatched plates. We all got a mug or glass of some sort to drink from. Uncle Ronnie roared with laughter at what he had pulled on us and of course we laughed too. I had never seen so much food and the variety of food, which included something I had never eaten, shrimp. 

Of course being a family there was drama at times of which I got caught up in but for the most part it was an interesting and fun-filled weekend, which I will never, ever forget.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

By MR...aka Naila Moon 
Originally written Nov. 26, 2008

Rewritten Nov. 18, 2010

All rights reserved

The Beast

The Beast

It was raining and I had decided to stay in for the night. My favorite sci fi show was on anyway and I had never missed an episode.  My cat Esmerelda, sat purring quietly on my lap and life seemed full of contentment.

I was just about to pop another handful of pretzels in my mouth when all of a sudden I saw it! There is was in the darkest corner of the room. There it was, the large beast.

It called to me, beckoning me to it.  This beast demanded servitude that only I could give it. Only I could continue feeding its ferocious appetite.

I feared it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I must resist it. No!

I turned my head in hopes it would leave me alone. However, it was to no avail. It's power was too strong and it needed what energy I had in order to stay alive.

Slowly, I got up from the couch an inched my way toward it.  My hands and forehead where sweaty in anticipation of what was to come next. Closer and closer I crept toward it, being careful not to make any sudden moves.

With an evil vengeance the beast tripped me and I stumbled in to it.  Defeated, I hung my head low, bowing to it as only it demanded. 

Then and only then I stepped on its powerful foot and it roared with pleasure, for it had won. In return the beast granted me a gift. 

 And that gift  was a clean floor.

By MR...aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf

Originally written January 24, 2010

Rewritten November 12, 2010

All rights reserved

Cherokee Nights

Photo from Bing Image (not my own)

Cherokee Nights

The moon was full and the night air was crisp. The water from the river could be heard quietly rolling over the rocks that had formed in it over the decades. Owls hooted in the distance to welcome the night creatures.
 

Children were being hushed from their play as parents frantically attempted to quiet them. All seemed right in the universe as we warmed ourselves around the fire and told our stories that had been told for generations.
 

I always love hearing the stories of my people, the Cherokee.  I asked Grandmother to tell me my favorite and she was happy to oblige me.
 

 It goes like this:

"One evening an old Cherokee Indian told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, ‘My son, the battle is between two ‘wolves’ inside us all .

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: ‘Which wolf wins?’

The old Cherokee simply replied, ‘The one you feed."

As I sat listening once again to Grandmother spin her tale, I could not help to think about which I choose to feed in my life.  I often have to battle both wolves that live within me.

However, as I sit near this fire, this night, and listen to the stories of old, I remember that I am of the wolves and I strive for my name to be of the good, for I am Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf another keeper of tales.

all rights reserved by MR...aka Naila Moon of the Grey Wolf
Originally written April 27, 2009
Re-written Nov. 1, 2010