One afternoon in May 1985, I had done my classes and chores for the day. Graduation was coming soon, so it was time to reflect, retreat, and take refuge, time to go to that quiet, secluded place where I could relax, and take a moment for myself and my mental well-being.

While sitting on my couch, with no interruptions, I reviewed my life and the series of events that challenged me to grow until I became the person I wanted to be. Certain mental images and positive convictions shaped me. They defined me. They transformed my being, molding me into this person I’ve worked so hard to become.

When I think back on that spring day, when a light of hope and joy appeared, bringing happiness and contentment, filling what had felt like an empty space in my soul, filling my heart. Something I succeeded at by pouring every effort into it.

Throughout those college years, I found my voice, my self-confidence, and a self-worth that no one could ever take away. The reason I fought as hard as I did was because that became my purpose in life—to live, to breathe, to exist, and to give back to the world unconditionally.

“I can do this!” I told myself. “No one is going to label me and call me a retard. No one! I am going to beat this system.”

Gratitude came to mind, gratitude for giving myself the strength, courage, and confidence to keep moving forward, especially in controlling my life’s journey and claiming my right as a person with disabilities to dignity and respect.

I was immensely grateful for my willingness, for my fortitude, for my determination to stay the course and achieve my goals and dreams, to leap over every hurdle blocking my path. Thus, giving thanks for all the experiences I faced and took on, I kept going over and over my life’s experiences. I struggled to believe I had accomplished all that I had.

How empowering, powerful, and life altering for that little infant who was going to be deaf, dumb, and blind, according to the doctors.

That little girl, who wore a full length leg brace, even learned to dance. I learned to read and write with dyslexia, and learned what 2 + 2 equaled. I threw away my leg brace at age eleven—never to wear it again.

Because of my grit and determination, and dance lessons with Al Gilbert, this all became possible, including taking on the system, and winning a civil rights case for my own education and for everyone else in this world. I rejected all critics, objectors, and people who tried to disrupt my life’s path and deter me from my destination. I rose above them all, vowing to be better than what they deemed or considered possible for me to become. It was time for me to accept all that I had mastered and manifested.

You see, I wanted to become the best person my mama Katie always wanted me to be. Therefore, I did everything in my power to open the doors for myself, and for others, too. Simply to fit into a world that didn’t accept me. Thank you, Mama.

Never Giving In

Maybe I can learn
To read
To write
And to spell someday

And when tomorrow comes
The trumpets will blow their horns.

For that day will be glorious
As all the effort,
And all the long hours of devotion and dedication
Of hard work, well done,
Will be reality.

My dream
Will have come to pass
I will be at one
I will be united
I will be at peace with my heart’s desire
Never again drifting into defeat!

I have taken many a walk in my lifetime, although nothing like the walk I took that day back in 1993.

It was a beautiful spring day in April. Alone, feeling free and at one with myself, I walked beneath the palm trees and blue sky, but as I strolled, my peace and calm faded. Even though ten years had passed since I wrote the poem I posted last week, the one about the gray-fisted cloud and my inner critic, another instance of unfair criticism had awakened him.

The feeling that arose unsettled me, which was unusual because I am a cheerful person by nature. Thus, I knew something was going on down deep inside me.

I came to a park bench, sat down, and listened carefully. I stilled my body and mind so I could hear what my beating heart was telling me, but instead, pain arose in my body and mind. Agony. Intense struggle. Distress. Not just sorrow, but grief.

The wind shook me to my core, once again reviling me with powerful, controlling emotions I didn’t want to face. But I did, guided by the force of nature. For the evolution of good to better myself.

Being outside calms my soul and spirit. It makes me feel at one with nature and quiets the critical voices with their derogatory remarks, and helps me fight positively, rather than defiantly or defensively.

Once again, writing a poem healed me. Nature and poetry heal. Nature is always there for us. Poetry is our human way of responding to nature’s love.

Song

The wind is blowing,
And as I look within
I look outside of myself
To view the stillness and
The quiet pondering
Of my heart’s deepest content.

The wind blows with much strength
And I,
I see glimpses of weakness.
Weakness all around,
Weakness of my past.
Weakness in others,
Weakness in the things we say and do.

So I reach out to nature,
Oh, what a nature!

A nature that hears me,
A nature that sees me,
A nature that feels the beating of my heart,
And which is all-powerful!
It’s a silent solitude
Which sings to me
Like the birds soaring in flight,
Like the chirping of their call,
When they call at my front door.

One Friday night back in 1982, I wrote this poem. My friend Robert and I had decided to take a walk from the West Hollywood apartment I shared with Mama up the hill to Tower Records on Sunset Boulevard. It was our favorite hang out place. 

“Let’s go,” I said in a merry voice as I put on my shoes, tied them, and headed out the front door into a lovely summer night with the temperature just right and a little breeze. The full moon lighting our way could not have been more beautiful.  

We climbed the big hill, breathing deeply, catching our breath, then with four more blocks to go, we saw the two Tower Records buildings. We had made it all the way. Since we didn’t want contemporary or pop that night, we went to the one with classical music. Smiling, enjoying the moment, we walked the final distance and through the door into a room filled with vinyl records and cassette tapes to browse. 

We stayed for well over an hour, then relished a walk down the block, taking in the beautiful gardens surrounding the homes we passed. Three quarters of the way down the street, I saw a snail sitting still and taking in the moon, just as we were.

My friend Robert said, “Why don’t you write a haiku about this?” 

I said, “All right.”  

And it was. 

Moon’s Glow

Bare silver branches
Alone under the moon’s glow
I see a snail…

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Mike Dillon (assumed based on copyright claims). CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons,

On my fiftieth birthday, in 2001, I was thinking about my family tree, my roots, and the history of my life, not just ethnic, but cultural too—strong, grounded, growing from kindness, love, dignity, and strength of character.

I realized how strong my foundation was, and how it made me face every challenge with an inner light to brighten the hearts and souls of others. Not only had I bared my soul, I had uncovered it. I had discovered it.

If I can do this, you can too.

Little Seedling

How young you are, my little tree,
You’re a seedling amongst all that be!

And even though your branches are weak,
You grow stronger with every breath you seek!

Do you know why
You are the most beautiful
Of them all?

It’s because you sway
With every beckoning call
Listening sensitively
All on your own!

Your wonder,
Your glory,
Your beauty,
All come from the powers you posses!

They are your gifts!
My sweet girl!
For you have stood tall,
Taking each disappointment,
Without complete defeat

You stand in quiet solitude
With dignity and grace!

This poem came to me one day, back in 2004, when I was feeling pretty down low. It had to do with the man I loved.

That day my heart hurt because of the way he talked down to me and at me. Because he hurt me so deeply, my feelings were out of control. I could barely speak, I was so upset.

So, I reached out to my friend Shawn, who lived in Massachusetts, and we talked by telephone for a long time, but within a few minutes of describing what was going on inside myself, I began releasing my anguish, letting go, and feeling better.

As I relinquished my grip enough to free myself from the stress and tension, I knew I had to release my anger, and when I did, that anger and hurt turned to forgiveness.

Yet, as my friend and I talked, I knew I had to hang up, so I could write, affirm, meditate and forgive not just my beloved—but myself for reacting. I needed to be alone and allow myself to breathe and set my heart free.

And I did set it free, but unfortunately, Shawn also eventually withdrew from my life. He was a good friend. I miss him and wish him well.

LISTENING

Today was dark!
My heart felt like sinking.
My thoughts drifted far from reality.
My voice quivered and disappeared!

Then I dialed you
And listened to your sweet voice.

You spoke words that sounded like a symphony,
And started a crimson blaze
Within myself,
Out of control!

You were so right,
And I was totally
Left on my own!

Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by J. M. W. Turner, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Once again, I tried to help a friend of mine who had been in my life for twenty years.

Back in 2003, we were the best of friends, always there for each other with a comforting hug that gave both of us respite from a demanding world.

Yet, once again, he drifted away for another year and a half, and once again, I had to let him go with love as I prayed, affirmed, and wished the best for him. And that he would be all right.

I would always be there for him if he ever came back into my life needing a friend. Hence, this poem from 2003.

LIKE MORNING DEW

Your friendship,
My friend,
Is like
The softness of
Morning dew

Your friendship
Is like the gentle waves
Ebbing out to sea,
As the sun’s amber rays
Shine down upon me

Giving me pure
Nourishment from above,
Wisdom from within,
And enlighten to carry on!

Oh, how can I say
Thank you, my friend,
When words are not enough,

Please hear me
With your heart,
And see me with the sight
Of your soul,
And always, always
Walk beside me,
Singing tunes
Of your favorite
Inner song!

This poem was written in 2002.

In the quiet, still light, I watch the sun melt to dusk. This is one of my favorite moments of the day. It’s serene. There’s little or no noise. I am all alone, and there is an absence of movement and sound. All I can see is the physical result of earth’s changing location and position relative to the sun. My spirt transitions with the light. Now, the only movement I feel is my heart talking to the stars.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.