Bringing down wrath like rays of sunshine, glimpsed through a break in the clouds. If only this was true for the truly wicked.
Running through the field the snow shows my tracks until the wind comes and wipes them away. It’s as if I was never here. How do I leave a mark? How?
The eagle has lost many feathers and its skinned is burned from the fires of ignorance. The eagle has lost many feathers and its feet are shackled with iron forged of lies. The eagle has lost many feathers but it will, given time, learn to fly again.
Dragging my feet as I near the finish line. Each step, a weighted leg ankle, knee, thigh… The ribbon wavers in the wind, the cheers around the marker are distant despite being as close as an embrace. I make it forward only through will because my body responds like I’m running through cement that is … Continue reading Finish the Race – A Poem
Total belief is the anchor tied around your ankles, your waist, your arms, digging into your flesh, leaving rope burns as you are dragged under the waves of ignorance, hidden shame, and the depths of despair.
The palace is being stormed, the populace has risen. But for what? A conclusion that could never be, like a dry spot at the bottom of the ocean or a breathable environment in the vacuum of space.
The choice before you is simple, a bent fork in the road. On the one hand, you can walk away from all you’ve ever known, all of the pearls of knowledge you’ve collected and where around your neck as a precious necklace. Or, you can continue down the path with blinders restricting your vision, showing … Continue reading Split Roads – A Poem
Bridges should lead from one place to another, a new place with promise and possibilities. And if the bridge does not function properly, burn it to the ground and rebuild it.
My cat paws at my leg, wanting scratches while I write. I gently scratch behind her ears, listening to her purr luxuriously while I stare at the blank Word document in front of me. Inspiration takes its time finding me while my cat enjoys the moments of bliss from attention that is often provided but … Continue reading Scratching while blank – A Poem
To be your sledgehammer, knocking away the debris from around your heart, your mind, and your spirit. Might need a shovel too, digging up all the broken earth that has been compacted over the best parts of yourself, the parts you want to show me but have not seen daylight for many years.