categories and tags, Death, God, Philosophy, Reflections, Uncategorized


History 1997
This poem was written, not as a theological discussion, but to help me in thinking of my family who were already a part of that new and different world. I don’t remember when it occurred, but at some point I realized that physical death is not the enemy. That was a big step, one I have come to recognize as difficult for most of us. However it is the way God chooses to teach us, and in my own opinion, it is probably His favorite method. Why? I think it is because it follows a non-painful path all the way through with the exception of that first step. Now, I am able to go forward and contemplate what God has been preparing for us since that time so long ago when he decided to create us as human beings. Most recently I had to release my husband of sixty years to this path and it was sad, but the poem gives me pause now allowing me to contemplate the wonders of that place of refuge made from love, with love. To know he is well, situated in safety among others who love each other gives me great joy. I hope you can gain peace of mind and or now and the anticipation of joining loved ones in the future.

Escape lies in darkness, a street with no name
Where edges are softened and work not the same
Where time does not limit and words never fail
Where friends, ever present, forever prevail.

Such darkness is light at the end of my way
Illumination, glowing through clouds of gray
Beckoning so gently through tunnels of pain
New life is promised though no life remains.

Then weariness, which held me, gives way to hope
For just one glimpse of the eternal scope
And as I press toward the light forgetting all pain
I emerge from my chrysalis, whole again.

Marie Hunter Atwood
illustration by



Death, God, Philosophy, Poetry, Remembering, Uncategorized



      Marie Hunter Atwood – 1988
Haunting memories fill my brain
Of days gone by, not seen again
It is, as if, time now stands still
For proof it’s not a dream, but real.

Those moon-bathed nights and golden days
Spilled like jewels in languid haze.
While future’s tryst postponed again
Gave way to innocence sweet reign.

With bold bare feet and bronze-tanned skin,
Sun-bleached hair tousled in the wind,
We romped and played and dreamed in bliss,
Trading time for happiness.

Warm faces tilted to the sun
We didn’t know when it was done
Without knowledge it slipped away
To vanish like the breaking day.





Death, Self-Distruction, Uncategorized


There’s always an option/ a place to go/it may not be home but it’s all I know

There’s a bed that’s soft/with lights to pretend/that life is good/without amends

Good days, bad days, life without dreams/yet always there are times of screams

Where do you go/when it’s not a dream/when reality bursts open the seams

And doubt creeps in to abolish all things/where is the option when all is gone

How do you crawl to the top/from within mud so deep

And how do you salvage what isn’t there/ how can you leave the precious and fair

Will you destroy even the priceless/without a care/or will you take what’s even there


Death, Love, Poetry

An Experiment in Style

Regardless of the fact that folklore tells us ‘curiosity killed the cat’ I am a curious person, and can never resist a new challenge. I saw instructions for writing a Welsh style poem called a GWAWDODYN, and I couldn’t resist. It isn’t all that different actually following a 9-9-10-9 syllable lines with that extra syllable in line 3, but not at the end, but in the middle, a little to either the right or the left. This is my one and only so far, and I liked it so much I wanted to share it with you. Here it is.

Fond memories swirl about my heart
Whispering how long we’ve been apart
Yet ‘if only’ failed to restart sweet grace
Nor allow a glimpse of your dear face.