whenever someone leaves us

we always say, ”they were so young,

their life shouldn’t have ended so soon.”

and it doesn’t matter whether they were young or old

but maybe when they do leave us

maybe what we mean is that they waited too long

that all they worked for for themselves was lost too soon

that they waited too long to be able to reap the rewards

hyperaware of every movement and sound
pencil scratching paper turns to metal on glass
voices to piercing needles
footsteps to a sledgehammer

light feels blinding
burning like the sun

the brush of a fingertip
tears into me like barbwire

internally screaming but making sound hurts
shaking so hard you'd think I'm freezing

please stop talking
please stop moving
please turn the lights off
but I cannot express these requests

I still remember the time
I felt immortal
I do remember the times
I am immortal
I believe in the dream
I am immortal
I do remember
what and everywhere
I am immortal
when and everywhere
I am loved
by the ones who loved me back.

Time is fluid, here

on the plane, we are floating --


in moments of now.

Haiku/Senryu

Leprechauns,
gold and clovers

Daisy's and Roses

Phantasmagorically

Become a Tanka poem