Poetry, short prose, & general musings.
Active shooter
Drop my work
Drive like mad
Where are my children?
Where is my niece?
Please God, not us
Bring peace, please, bring peace.
Two families left standing
When the rest have filed out
Where are their children?
Still lying in a pew
Their last breath now gone
Oh God. Please, no.
Add us to the list
Communities torn by love
Of America’s Gun.
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.
Hurt is so easily exchanged
Like coins tossed
True meaning lost
Foundations like sand
Relationships disband
Over a missed word
An apology unheard
Can we gird our hearts
To withstand the hard parts?
Yet remain soft, open
Vulnerable, a little broken
Allowing others to see
Our true reality
Is our destiny division-
Or can we begin a revision?
You see a light through a picture window in the evening, escaping through long, white curtains not fully drawn. It is a tiny beacon of comfort to you, outside. The warm glow an invitation to a safe place where you might feel free to be genuine. You knock gently on the door, the vulnerability breaking your already fragile heart. You step into a softly lit room with a crackling fire. A warm blanket and glass of bourbon with a single, large cube of ice smoldering inside the glass awaits. Smiles exchanged, listening ears await. May it be to you today, to know that you will be okay.
Kacie B. Sharpe 