Please, let me not be the reason you stumble. Falling back to old habits long lost. Letting that wave of destruction pour through. Washing away those buildings that you made with such care. Reversing all the progress in one swift move. A kind of emptiness that cannot be expressed in words. *** If you are…

See the sprout? It survives from the hard ground. Breaking through the crust that keeps it trapped. A fighter and an achiever for better days. Times to thrive instead of just survive. It could not have lasted as long as it did without hope. *** Look at the green leaves. Funny how you can tell…

The scent of burning wood hangs heavy in the air. Hugging the face like an over thick scarf. Watering the eyes with intensity. Crowding out the fresh air. A stampede with consequences. The death of comfort away from prying eyes indoors. *** People treat celebration like it is going out of style. The smoke is…

I stare at the blank page. Thoughts racing. The day running through my mind. All the things I did and failed to do. Plans and aspirations. What I wanted to represent. *** “Add title”, it shrieks at me. Mocking my indecisive nature. Demanding I commit to a theme, a plan, a vision. I dig further…

The pendulum swings side to side. Back and forth like a magicians pocket watch. Gilded to be a very old heirloom polished over and over again. An average object made priceless. The memories of the original owner long lost. A shiny duality attended to brightly. *** Back and forth it goes. On one side is…

I spy on a shelf a relic of my childhood. Nutcracker men big and small. Uncanny and whimsical sold at a late season discount. The large ones always scared me no matter the location. The small ones a more sensitive place in my heart. Small enough to hold close and dream with. *** I used…

Clarity in blue. Purity in the white. Twinning together like long lost lovers. Long through the night. Separated by morning. A final kiss with the light. *** Knowledge found it the bookcases of old. Ensuring that survival does not remain only in the past. Fires lit to be roaring bright. That the future might have…

My body cries for a home that does not exist. Neither lost nor found. Only formed by thought, dream, and hope. As fragile as the thread that weaves it. As real as what might have been in another life. Just out of reach. *** I mourn for the happy memories that never happened. Vibrant trips…

Loud tears are a mixed bag. They could be just for show. A cry for attention but no real pain. Crossed wires between need and want. Screaming for a parent across the room. Used because they know it works. *** Loud tears can also be desperation. Searching for help as a last resort. Support from…

The wound is never expected. Showing up even on a summer day. Trauma that leaves a mark on the brain. Bleeding, oozing, letting you know it is there. Pain that does not go away quickly. Time is the only medicine. *** My brain has formed scabs. Sometimes they itch. Healing that tempts intervention. I can…