Our chapter has many talented members.  On this page we will showcase some of the beautiful examples of this talent in the form of poems and letters.

This poem was written by Amber Short to her sister, Stacy.
It was originally written on a napkin as we were driving down the road to meet her in New Mexico.

Memories

It's in the memories we share
The truly opposite pair
The way we try to understand
We always lend a hand
The sugar rushes after babysitting
We never told if the other was hitting
The way we laugh when we're together
And when we cry we have a shoulder
The long drives where we talked of dreams
And how a boyfriend isn't always what he seems
It's the girl's nights
The massive fights
It's in the challenges we met
And how we'll never forget
"Alone we fall, together we take someone with us,"
My taste tester, my confidante, my partner in crime
The only other person I know late all the time
Bugs, we are forever entwined
Through our heart, soul, mind
Our memories are one
- You're all I'd hoped you'd become
Nothing will make us truly distanced
Not time, miles or circumstance
You aren't just my sister but my friend
" And this friendship will never end
--- Remember to yourself be true
And remember that I love you!
My sister and friend, while all this is true
Remember one more thing, I'll always love you!
You're the light to my dark
Love you, Bugs

Candles and Tears

I was told, "it's so depressing"
this vigil held each year.
She said she'd rather see smiles and hope
than hear sad words and tears.

At first I thought," I can do that",
write words to make her smile.
If she can't tolerate the sound of sadness                                                                            
for even a very short while.           

I took pen in hand and looked down at a page   
and wondered, "what can I write?"
What can I say to make her feel better
on this our vigil night?

I closed my eyes to imagine me here
but can't see her face with the others.
Survivors were here, candles in hand.
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers.

Each one had a pain in their heart
but hope shone deep in the flame.
Hope that the light from so many candles
might help ease that pain.

I wondered why others find it so odd
that we gather here to remember.
As long as they live, I have no doubt,
they'll honor the 11th of September.

I tried but can't, write words for her
or others who don't understand,
why we gather together an hour each year
to grieve with candles in hand.

Survivors light candles for something gone.
Something someone took away.
Innocence, trust, health, a life.
Mine is lit in Jeramy's name

The candle represents many things,
a place, a time, a day.
When I hold mine, the warmth is his hand
and his face is in the flame.

For just a while his hand is in mine
and we hold the light together.
The glow that it gives is his love and God's
then I know I am still his mother.

I feel the warmth of tiny hands
as I first kissed them at birth.
Later, washing growing hands
after they played in the dirt.

Hands holding puppies and kittens.
Larger hands folded in prayer.

Here with others who do understand,
for a while I can drift back there.

Busy, gentle,boy hands
growing larger each day.
Always hand prints on everything.
Until last I washed them away.

My boy grew big, nearly a man.
Here in the soft glow of candles I can
go back through the years and revisit the time
when his trusting hand was safely in mine.

What was taken from me was the future.
Here I can grieve for that.
Like others with candles in hand today
I can also grieve for the past.
 
Here I can cry for the hands that won't hug me
on any Mother's Day.
I can mourn for the hands that won't hold mine as
through the years I age.
 
I can miss his future children
whose hands I'll never kiss.
I can remember hands lying too still
folded across his chest.
 
I could go on about his hands,
blue eyes, and golden hair.
I could talk forever about the years
and times he won't be there.
 
Instead we'll soon blowout the flames
and go our seperate ways.
Each with gathered strength in our hearts
to carry through coming days.
 
It's okay if you're here and don't understand
how we're helped with the candles and tears.
Why we stare at the flame,
then each go our way to gather again each year.
 
My prayer for you is you never will know
how important a candle can be.
ifs better I remember being like you,
Than for you to understand me.
 
May you never know.
May your heart never ache,
for unlit candles
on a birthday cake.

We wish for you to never know.
May you be safe through the years.
Only if fate makes you one of us
will you understand candles and tears.

 
Written by Wanda Grimes 3/2003
Jeramy's mom - DWl fatality