On the windowsill, all flailing
Legs and desperation—
At times, it attempts to fly
Away, but soon enough it gives
That up as if to say,
“I can’t.”

The movements get smaller and
Slower, but occasionally there are bouts
Of hysteria
(𝙒𝙃𝙔 𝙈𝙀)
Until eventually nothing is left but a
Feeble twitch and really the question
That you should be asking is:
“Is it still alive?”

It is still alive.

It is still alive but it is tired.

Slowly…
Slowly…
Slowly…

I return a hero,
but the victory
is buried in my skin—
cold sweat,
thick as blood,
as a grave.

3:47 AM,
The door creaks open,
the old hinges groaning—
boots pounding closer,
each step like a drumbeat,
bringing a cold shiver
that claws down my spine.

Then—
silence.

A scream cuts the night,
the daughter,
the mother,
they want me—
drag me back
to that blood-soaked hell,
where nothing survives,
where life is torn apart.

Warplanes split the sky,
tanks rumble in my chest—
the taste of rust,
the heat of gunfire,
the smell of flesh burning,
of metal tearing through bone.

l open my eyes,
and I'm surrounded—
the bodies of my brothers,
their faces smashed into the earth,
eyes wide,
mouths frozen in screams.
The stench is choking,
the blood thick,
pooling like a dark sea around us.

The Nazis—
they don't stop—
shooting the fallen
to make sure no one rises.
I feel the shot in my gut,
but I'm still here—
I wait my turn.

I close my eyes.

And then—
l open them.
Still here.
4:01 AM.
I survived.
Barely.

Take my blood, take my sweat, take my tears,
I will still be pushing through these fears.

Water runs calmly
A garden within chaos
Grass still grow greener

The old man eats his TV dinners,
He's never learned to cook.
He believes it's a woman's job
But he never quite has the nerve to approach one.
Sure, there have been some
But far & in-between.
They don't stay long,
Bar the ones who have been there
Not to love but to take.
But he was smart enough
To cut them off
And not ache for a connection
Even if it wasn't genuine.
He has sense enough
Yet, not exactly a kind which is common.
For he finds it hard
To stand on ground equidistant.
But what is normal?

Is it such a thing as loneliness or love
Which more people take apart of?
In love there is loneliness,
Just as in loneliness there is love.
Whether it is from hearts together
Who can't stand each other,
Or from hearts seperate
Yet readily love one another.
Is it such a thing as loneliness in love
Or love in loneliness
Which more people find themselves in?
Of the equal strength it takes to stay
There is someone stronger in leaving,
Of the equal weakness it takes to wane
There is someone weaker in longing.
Yet, of the unrequited,
These are but fancy words
Which don't always flower to fruition.
And love can be won through persistence,
But to some it is akin to attrition.
The foundation of it loose & unstructured,
Rather than unbound & liberated.

Perchance, by the eye which beholds;
Some think it cowardly -
Some think it bold.
To go on loving, nonreciprocal.
To go on loving, unconditional.

One must explore more,
To find an answer,
As We do not know—
Furthermore,
We’ve failed Those who have yet to come,
Since We could have found an outcome,
To answer Their call,
Forever more.

You are a Precious Pearl
A pear begins with a bit of Grit
Forged with the refining fires
Of passion persistence and pressure
It is a gift, a treasure beyond measure
The more costly for its journey
Through the crucible of life

When persistence and passion unite
When done in the presence of God's Light
You will bring to the table what some call Grit
With confidence you can say to life: "Bring It"
You have just become an Overcomer
Moving in the grace of God's own drummer