There will come a time
When one must slow down
To release the reigns
Not only feel the wind
But stop & smell what it brings
A shift in season
Seeing that change brings suffering
Yet also beauty
As the autumn brings death
With glory in its leaves.
Category: poetry
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
