I think the issue
That I frequently come back to
I never know
What kind of day it will be
If it were
Our last.
Category: poetry
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Sometimes I can feel the rage in my bones
The ancient wound separate and seep
Generations of anger as ghosts
Haunting my days
I desperately attempt to escape
It is not something that I can outrun
I have tried.
These are spirits I must face
Battle with kindness, gentleness, nuance
When all I desire is war.
War on those who dare keep up this charade
Who have not been cracked from their little bubble.
My limited capacity is what I fear the most
Will I be able to confront such malice with humility and justice?
Only a greater force could allow me this.
It is only by that strength I will carry this torch
Towards a different future.
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To be somewhere
With a history
A presence that has grit
Memories that linger
Ghosts both friendly and haunting
Sitting on a porch swing
Meeting someone for the first time
Hugging them goodbye
As if you’ve known them forever
A person who asks your child their name
Looks them in the eye
And actually remembers, cares.
The connections between people
That is what will hold us fast
That is what will keep us from falling apart.
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We’ve arrived at Seven years
Starting this with tragedy & tears
What we learned was to cling fast
Through raging storms & we’ll last
Babies came bringing delight
Our plans & dreams now feel right
But babies keep us wide awake
Cleanse our selfishness till we break
We wouldn’t trade a single fight
For the bond that’s now sealed tight
They say this year may begin
A certain romantic tailspin
We know this won’t be our end
Our wounds we’ll continue to mend
We claim this victory as our own
With God’s help we face the unknown
Hand in hand we confront another day
Till eternity draws us in her way.
Kacie B. Sharpe 