Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Here's To Say...

The Work is neverending
The problems pile high
Impossible demands and tasks
Could make a grown man cry.

The hours are exhausting
The battles never cease
There is no chance of resting
There's no white flag of peace.

And yet you soldier on each day
Subject yourself to fire
No shield to protect yourself
No bullet-proof attire.

Armed with only strength of heart
And love to see you through,
A peanut butter sandwich
A briefcase and a suit.

So here's to say I see you
And the struggles that you live
The sacrifices you endure
The love you always give.

And here's to say I love you
And as crazy as it seems
The years of tears and laughter
Have surpassed my wildest dreams.

Caren E. Salas

for Bill, Happy Birthday Honey!!

Monday, September 14, 2009


Warm hands
Caring heart
Gentle voice
Healing Touch.

Fix the body
Ease the pain
Calm the soul
It means so much.

Caren E. Salas

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Summer's Children

Minds releasing
from too much school.

Fingers pruney
from too much pool.

And happy,
Faces beaming
from too much sun.

Bodies tired
from too much fun.

Caren E. Salas

Thursday, September 3, 2009


Sometimes I feel so lost, as though the most I can do is survive from day to day. Everything seems gray and dismal. Then, I write. As the words flow from my hands to the page, or to the screen, a little of the pain inside of me goes with it. This purging keeps me sane, or at least keeps me from falling. It's a balancing act. I stand on one foot on the tightrope between Black and White, precariously lingering in the Land of Gray. On one side is hope and the other is the abyss. Sometimes I wobble, sometimes not. Sometimes the Black seems inviting, like a rest from the constant struggle. Sometimes the White seems unattainable, but after all it is hope. So I hold on, and stay here in the Gray.

Caren E. Salas

You don't - I don't

You don't have to be a poet
To say the words "I love you".
I don't have to be asleep
To say that I dream of you.

You don't have to be a scholar
To read the things I write.
I don't have to be a child
To want you to hold me tight.

You don't have to know the music
To dance along with me.
I don't have to be an artist
To imagine what I see.

You don't need to have the answers,
If you see me fall apart.
I don't have to have the words
If you'll listen to my heart.

Caren E. Salas