Gun Safety

Flowers that barely last a day, and wilt in the vase when you pick them

Clouds that drift in a clear blue sky, why wish them to be anything different?

People that meander from platform to train, don’t bother me with their moods

But your thoughts?

Turbulent waves pulling me in

I drown in salt water, going under again

“Where there is love there is pain”


Why do some people have the ability to affect us with their moods, and not others? Something in them, pulls a trigger in us. We care. It would be nice to do away with care and live a more peaceful life, perhaps. But those same people that know where our guns are kept, also know where all our happiness is stored. And much of it lives in them.

Relationships, they teach me a lot. Mostly about how hair trigger my reactions are when someone steps on my love nerve. It’s a big nerve and it runs all the way around the outside of me and is connected by leads to my heart.

My Mum used to say constantly “don’t wear your heart on your sleeve”, probably because when I did so, she felt her own love nerve get stepped on, protective instincts bounding to the fore. But there really isn’t a remedy for care, we care, because we care.

The care switch doesn’t even get turned off after a loved one dies. It should, they aren’t physically here anymore, so why do we care?

Maybe we leave pieces of ourselves in others, and they in us. Perhaps then, when we die, the pieces we left live on.

“Energy never dies, it is merely transformed”


I know that no matter how long it has been, sometimes I still grieve my departed loved ones, keenly. Like a clot that moves around the body unseen, until it bumps into your heart, moves into your throat and out your eyes. Those pieces continue to tumble around in our system until we die.

But there is no remedy. Just the understanding, and sometimes that is enough.

Header photo courtesy Tim Marshall Unsplash

8 thoughts on “Gun Safety

  1. You took me along with your reflections on caring, even beyond the death of our loved one, and brought me to tears. The nun, with whom I entered the convent in 1971, died this week from breast cancer. Though we had not seen each other since 2001 when I last visited Guyana, I’m devastated by her loss. As you express it so well: “Maybe we leave pieces of ourselves in others, and they in us. Perhaps then, when we die, the pieces we left live on.” All those pieces of the seven years we journeyed together in the religious life now live on in me.

    • Having the capacity for memory is a double edged sword Rosaliene, if we can learn to deal with the pain of loss, I think the love is so very worth it. I have your book on my Christmas holiday reading list. Had best get hold of a copy before the postal service goes max, I’m looking forward to reading it.

Leave a Reply