The official site of author Ruth McLeod-Kearns

Ruth McLeod-Kearns is an advocate for opiate/heroin overdose, author, creator of the I'll Bring the Coffee blog series and a contributing writer for Things Women Want Freedom of Expression magazines.

Here, you can connect with the author, follow her social media accounts and download the thought-provoking novelettes. As always, she'll bring the coffee.

I Yield

I yield to the heartbreak of my losses and desire a reprieve from the darkness where my heart sits.  The blood is still and I wonder if I am still alive or a dream where I awaken in the comfort of my mother’s sweet arms.  I see her often in my sleep that is rare and breaks me on a nightly basis.  In these moments, she is young, before my birthmother was even born.  And yet there we are I am older than she is. How does this happen?  Am I going insane?  


Am I ever to sleep again with angels that are comforting?  Is there a day where my family isn’t  fragmented and driven by the lost?  I finally get myself to wake up, I am sweat ladened, and I feel no comfort from the one thing my body craves.  I am cursed and blessed in the same breath.  But the stench remains soured and I don’t know where to go from there.


I tiptoe from room to room, listening to the sounds of healthy slumber that is no longer mine.  I pray for this to be their future, though my own mortality tells me this is not possible.  I keep this inside for they have watched me grieve, and I don’t wish for them to realize that this is what is in store for them as well.  For one day I too will be a memory, as my body rots and turns to dust.  They will learn this for themselves, so I will let them be.  The summer is around the corner, but I know that as soon as I gain speed with that as a blanket of good wraps me up, it will again be winter.  The cold with more night than day will again prevail.


Oh where are the promises of right and a justice that should guide me?  How do I show the boys that life is good when in my heart I question that very essence of truth?  I wander back to the bed that has gone cold where I lay.  I shiver ever so lightly, curling in a ball and hoping the tears that fall don’t awaken the good that is in my life.


I sit in the comfort of my mom’s loving arms.  She is young, I am aging and more fragile by the day.  Oh where is the sleep I desire?  Is she like this in heaven?  Will my boys do this as well?  I sleep in the comfort of my mother's young arms.  I sleep in the cold of my reality.  I am dying.  I am alive.  I yearn for her.  But I know it is but a dream.  The pink sky tells me so.

*Center for Disease Control and Prevention, "Understanding the Epidemic: Drug overdose deaths continued to increase in 2015", 12/16/16