the road to change leads through grace

May all Beings be freed

Shared by Bernard Sarkissian
May all beings be freed from their suffering, know joy, know peace!!
For all my friends, whether close or casual, just because. This is one of the longest posts I will ever make, and one of the most real too. Everyone will go through some hard times at some point. Life isn’t easy. Just something to think about. Did you know the people that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive? Did you know the people who exhibit the most kindness are the first to get mistreated? Did you know the ones who take care of others all the time are usually the ones who need it the most? Did you know the three hardest things to say are I love you, I’m sorry, and help me? Sometimes just because a person looks happy, you have to look past their smile to see how much pain they may be in. To all my friends who are going through some issues right now–let’s start an intentional avalanche. We all need positive intentions right now. If I don’t see your name, I’ll understand. May I ask my friends wherever you might be, to kindly copy and paste this status for one hour to give a moment of support to all of those who have family problems, health struggles, job issues, worries of any kind and just needs to know that someone cares. Do it for all of us, for nobody is immune. I hope to see this on the walls of all my friends just for moral support. I know some will!!! I did it for a friend and you can too.

“On August 5, 1962, movie actress Marilyn Monroe is found dead in her home in Los Angeles. Los Angeles police concluded that her death was “caused by a self-administered overdose of sedative drugs and that the mode of death is probable suicide.”
“I make mistakes, I’m out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” Marilyn Monroe

My Veins

I miss you and I don’t know where you are. I think I’m alone now. I don’t think I’m gone. Am I still here?
They make me feel like I’m losing my mind. Sadly my veins tell the story that I’m already gone.
I don’t want to go so I’ll hang on, at least one more time.
For Marie


Philly Voice Staff
The following poem by Natalie Cribari, titled “Heroin,” was included in the Pennsylvania State Coroners Association’s 2014 Report on Overdose Statistics.
It was written by the young Harrisburg-area woman on Christmas Day 2005 – three months before she died of a heroin overdose at the age of 20 – to warn others about the dangers of abusing drugs. Natalie wrote the poem from Dauphin County Prison. She died 19 days after she was released.
Natalie’s mother shared the poem with Dauphin County Coroner Graham Hetrick and asked that it be shared to help prevent others from having to experience the loss of a child.
“She was a good student, a good kid that most likely went down this path of first abusing prescription drugs and then finally using heroin,” Hetrick said in testimony before the House Human Services Committee on Jan. 31, 2014.

By Natalie Cribari
Through poison-tainted veins, I feel
A warmth that soothes, but is surreal
It’s funny how we became acquainted
He made me quiver, I almost fainted.
He seemed so cool, so calm, and sweet
He swept me off my virgin feet.
We fell in love, or so I thought
My soul, Almighty love, is what he sought.
He hid his identity with a comforting mask,
Only to disguise his horrid task.
With every kiss, he sucked me dry.
His soft caress was all a lie.
He came inside me: just a little prick
It made me lightheaded, and a little bit sick
He abused me raw, “til my arms were sore
My cheekbones were visible
But I craved him more.
He made me chase him
And steal, lie and cheat
He wore down my body
Until I fell in defeat.
He cackled at my pain
His full destruction of me
But I am too dope sick
That this I can’t see.
Still, I begged and I pleaded
For him to return
An ongoing cycle
Why didn’t I learn?
So at night I fell asleep
With him by my side
But woke up with no one
“He promised!” [He lied)
So today, again, I make it
My priority, my chore,
To find him in vain
And again be his whore.
His passion I want
I crave, and I need
The rush that I get
Fill that indeed
I may never make it
But to you, I dare say
If he should strut by, look the other way
He’ll charm you and flirt
With his deadly advances
He’ll shower you with false promises
And convincing romances
He could come upon you, any old day
With a twinkle in his eye,
And his look that could sway.
This is your warnin’, so dalin’ take heed
What he does offer you, you surely don’t
A handful of problems, a life that is dark
In no time he’ll have you,
And your gravestone he’ll mark.


My Angel

My Angel
She comes to me in darkness
She comes to me when I’m alone
Often when I’m crying or hurt
She appears when I’m on my own
By my side she stands and stares
Without a hallo or wings
No shimmer light follows her
She saves me from desperate things
She comes to everyone else as well
Yet her eyes are heavenly blue
She seem to have an unearthly glow
As if she was covered with dew
When others call She dresses in white
And never turns to look back
When she comes to visit me
She’s always dressed in black
I know she’s standing in my room
Though, we never actually meet
What she whispers in my ear
Helps me to my feet
I don’t know what to call her
An enemy or friend
But when I begin to feel depressed
She’s right by my side again.
I can’t explain why she appears this way
It’s hard for others to see
Although it’s apparent that I need her
I also think she needs me
The tears I shed fall to her lap
And my frustrations to her hands
My angry words go to her ears
Yet she completely understands
You might not thing she beautiful
You see things differently
So I’ll keep this angel to myself
For she could be no more perfect to me.


Recently someone asked me, “If you could choose three people (alive or no longer) to have a chance to meet and talk to for just one hour who would that be?” My first choose would be Mother Teresa. The quote below says it all. This version was found written on the wall in Mother Teresa’s home for children in Calcutta:
People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

Enemy at the Gate

Enemy at the Gate
Addiction is like the “Enemy at the Gate.” It’s always there and the struggle is to not worry but be prepared for the time it pulls off a surprise attack. This enemy disguises itself as isolation, depression, boredom, a dysfunctional relationship, a place, a thing, one weak moment- a relapse.
A promise is made to beat this enemy. More meetings to attend, a sponsor, a different sponsor, removal from people, places and things, a halfway house, a sober house. It works, it doesn’t. A sorrowful end or new beginning.
Always opened to thoughts, comments and ideas. G