Stolen By Heart

You took everything away from me.
Every reason to live.
To love.
To cry.
To laugh.
Why did you do it?
You stole everything from me.
I only loved you in return.
Why did you steal my right to love you?
It was my choice to make, but you made the decision.
You thief.
You stole my heart.
My love.
I can’t forget it.
Because I can’t forget you.
It’s so hard.
But I love you.
Please come back.
Say it isn’t true. That it never was.
That it was just a bad dream.
A horrible nightmare that will never happen again.
Please. I love you.

2-4-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: the loss of a loved one

Blood Stained Memories

Death comes in such surprise,
In such anguish of pain.
It never releases the heart.
Blood left only to stain.
It’s striking how it occurs,
Darkening the light of the eyes.
The thief of a breath,
Yet the giver to agonize.
One could not release them self
From the chains of a graveyard bed.
For this is the calling of a sleep
To keep them only instead.
Words upon the tombstone
Aren’t really of any use.
They same as with the eulogy,
They’re just a poor excuse.
Caskets are a deadman’s ride,
Yet a coming that will take
All the young and naive hearts
And teach them how to ache.

1-24-1992 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Wicked and Morbid Thoughts

Ya know, I know it’s wicked and morbid to think about,
But I wonder sometimes where I’ll be buried.
Will it be in New Salem Cemetery with the rest of my family?
Or will it be beside the lake?
Maybe under a shade tree?
Or near the ocean?
Maybe I’ll die in a plane crash from some crazy notion to actually fly.
Or what about a car accident, like off in a river?
Or murdered?
Ugh… forget that.
I hope not.
God, I pray it won’t be, for my family’s sake.
In Jesus’ name I ask, Amen.
God, I don’t know where I’ll be buried,
But I hope it’s somewhere my family can rest at ease.
Maybe even with the rest of the family would be nice.
But I know from the cemetery meeting,
They’re running out of room in the graveyard.
That’s a shame, huh.
I’m just glad you won’t run out of room in heaven.
Maybe I won’t even have anything left to bury
From however I die.
Oh, I hope not.
But as long as You accept my soul,
I will be at peace, and happy.

1-19-1992 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. This was written after our family cemetery had meeting on running out of room Since then, they have added another side to the graveyard. It’s not all that much more room, but it is where my baby brother and aunt are buried.

Loving Was a New Flame

We were friends for the moment.
We were friends for the years.
We were friends with the laughter.
We were friends with the tears.
We were friends after all the pain.
We were friends after the fight.
We were always friends in life,
And then you were taken in the night.
I miss the way we use to laugh,
And the things we’ve said.
I try to let you rest in peace,
But I just can’t forget.
Upon your tombstone, your name is written,
And so are these words,
“We were always friends,
And we will be forever.”

12-7-1990 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: the loss of a dear friend

Sharing Love

They were of a love so true
Before the tragic crash.
We knew for certain they would last.

But now… now they lie in peace.
Side by side for life,
Yet their days are of our past.

Alone together in the graves,
They are in separate beds again.
But their hearts are bound together.

And as the friends would walk away,
We feel a tragic ache,
Yet we know they’ll love forever.

To the special souls arest,
We cry for your departure,
But leave behind this thought.

You may have been deprived of life,
But the love you shared together
Was a lasting lesson we were all taught.
“Don’t take love for granted.”

9-5-1990 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Hard to Wait

God,
How frightening it is to lose
Someone so young.
But if it’s Your will,
What can be done?
I know it’s a natural thing
For everyone to die.
But every time we lose someone,
It makes it harder to try.
It’s so unfair to take a man
Who’s doing good in life
And strip him of his destiny,
After surviving daily strife.
So many dreams are wasted, Lord,
By the death of someone great.
But I guess the more they praise You,
The harder it is to wait.

3-12-1990
Written by Gail Brookshire

WANTED

In search of a killer.
He’s searching for you.
He’s killed many others
And he will kill you too.
You’re not very perceptive
In thinking you will win.
You’ll have him begging for mercy?
Well, you’ll be the one to give in.
It’s best to put your knife away
And dare not make him upset.
For those who are the innocent,
Are the ones to meet their death.

10-30-1989
Written by Gail Brookshire
God knows everything!