Pieces of Eight

              Medicine Wheel

The years they pass so quickly now
The wheel turns, the seasons change
The Wheel of Fate spins round and round
I've learned to accept it's motion
To go with the flow
To play the cards I've been dealt
But I have to be honest ... the game is rigged
And I kinda miss tilting at windmills

Eight years
Eight cycles
It feels like a lifetime
They say time heals all things
The wheel turns, the seasons change
Yet it always comes back to October
The pain itself has faded
But the dreams remain broken

Memories are sweet
but they make a poor compass

Eight years ago today a car wreck ended the nightmare that my late husband's addiction began.  This time of year is always reflective for me and a bit sad, but this year has been particularly difficult.  My best friend's battle with cancer seems to be nearing it's end, and my Dad's got the news this past week that his carotid arteries are blocked, one 100% and the other 60% and that there's nothing they can do surgically.  Aside for my worry for them there also been a selfish fear that I would lose yet another person during the time that already haunts me.

Words have been tumbling around inside of me begging for release.  I sat down thinking to write a memorial for my Magic Man, but these are the words that came out.  Sometimes writing is like that for me.  The words demand their own expression.  I'm not even sure if I understand it exactly, so if it seems obscure to you just chalk it up to emotional release.  If you'd to try your hand at virtual shrink you are welcome to share your interpretation.  You may even see something in it that I haven't thought of.