Poem + Poem in Film ~ Ode To Yesterdays Angel. By K.S Blackmore

Picture the scene – your in a job you actually love, it’s enjoyable, and it feels like your calling, this perfect job you’ve been doing for some years now….. then one morning it’s gone, just like that! Perhaps the first thing you would do call home, phone mum in despair for help & advice ….. Or Maybe realise deep down it’s not the end of the world……?!
Well for me it was – there was no phone call home, or a visit to mum for a cuppa and chat. For that amazing job involved mum, – I was a carer, I was my mums carer. – Five years of being by my mums side through thick and thin, tears and laughter and more laughter and tears. Watching (bowel) cancer slowly take mum (aged 63) away from me.
The shock wave the morning after mums passing and the realisation hits in two life changing blows – mother- less and made redundant (care no longer needed), still hurts now (year and a bit later – a Little TLC needed for the ex-carer would of helped me).
– No one prepares you for that day, be it the person gone or the job that you learnt on the spot, and even the fiance aspect of it.
The whole world that you lived and breathed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, on call no matter the time – no walking out the door just ‘coz i fancied a day of! – Snatched away, with the feeling of being left in the middle of a ocean, struggling to stay afloat. – A angel mum to often called me, now that Angel starts falling…… through no-ones fault, just the way life turned.
But every angel deserves to be caught
~ This poem sums up the first couple of days or so after that life-changing event (more-so the no longer caring side)

Ode To Yesterdays Angel.
Tears into a twinkle, a twinkle into tears bursting,
From eyes that miss the rainbow surfed.
Walls of blue weathered in yesterdays echoes
This haunt wiped a home as dust settles.
No footsteps came, no footsteps goes
Chatter muted, notes taken, stand-stilling.
Scarce of breath that play stopped,
In silence hit, silence drowns, silence welcomed.

To embers etched in stale crumbs, in cold cups, sheets pulled,
Pills un-swolled, petals stained.
A house colding, lone company, no breathes.
A hand freezing, a hand yawning, hands bereaved.
Surplus to needs the badge unpinned
Passed return, in ashes smouldering
Heart-burnt in yesterdays love ceased.
This tree uprooted, as winter settles
Only ticking clocks haunt in this furrow ploughed.
At peace, – unmasking battle scarring
From the label striped.


Yesterdays angel
– This mourning a angel falling….


Q ~ Have you experienced becoming a falling angel, a yesterdays carer?
Please share your thoughts and how you come through the experience, how you managed to move on, what you done next, Advice, help ?

~ Please Comment (click link above ⤴️)

#fallingangel

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