Grace

The promise of more,
the ripening of fruit in the spring
the shore,
the succour the silence will bring
I'm yours,
like the bounty collected by kings,
the oars
will collide in the songs I will sing,
the chorus,
an echo, an ode, it will ring,
of course,
a madness to reach everything,
I'm sore
with the hope
and the promise of more.

Grace Jan 2024

ski

legs burn and weave the story,
a tapestry of snow

and wind yawns in a flurry,
a sanction that we go.

Grace Jan 2024

I hate confrontation

there is anger in me and I have smothered it for so long.

not anger about anything, just build up that, out of the concern of those it may affect, I have quieted and tucked away. But it is making me sick and I feel it inside of me, and I don't want to hold onto it anymore, but I don't know how to let it go.

I suppose I must confront it.