String me up till my skin is taut
Move my limbs like paper things
A charade in a child's parade
The Library's afternoon puppet show
All the children are welcome to play
Bodies bigger than they used to be
Paying bills and buying groceries
Mechanical workings guide my days
Strings pulling sinews every week
But I never forget
This is puppet theatre
And I'm in a play
My child moves me
In the streets and in the bureaucracy
Taking joy in her puppet
That's all grown up
She still sees this as play
And she is not wrong
Sticks and strings with frilly things
Adults are puppets
The child guides as is only right
Do not deny yourself the pleasure
Of the child inside
Children remember what we lost in the Library's mytic shelves and keeps
And remind us every time we forget we're in a play on theatre day.

I turned to see their distant faces,
My heart wanted to call out to them.
In my soul, family is all
But this is not home
And this blood is not mine to behold.
I long to hear them and belong with those supposed to be home
But they are not,
My soul reminds me every time.
My blood I know is home
But today, in this life
The ones of this flesh are not home,
Though I love them dearly
I know this red that flows
Only runs here.
Some day I'll go home
My blood will call to me,
And my aching soul will answer,
"At last I'm home."

Cast upon the wall
In plaster and stone
Beauty written in sage's scrolls
Sirens calling out in a distant drone
Fools in love
Wise learned long ago
It is worth the tears to hear the heart's song.

Rivers run
Winding through willow groves
Casting light on the setting sun
Tears of dying light
Settle on horizon's night
Oceans come
As comets run
Tails of bliss to kiss the sun
Of glory's day
How simple it has become
Go down where the river runs
Bathe yourself in tears of those gone
Bits of light grace your eyes
A cycle of time
Through you it all comes to life.

Why do they hurt?
A morning of overwhelming ache
Of the day ahead
Cleansed with a shower
But the voices never fade
Afternoons bright with light
I've always hated mid-day
The evening brings some peace
But the fear of night lurks
Relax enough as eyes grow dim
Sleep permits some fitful peace
Dreams and nightmares await
The best go far the worst further
3 am wakes with a sweaty start
A song or a voice of another brings relief
The next few hours are a coin flip of sanity
By dawn the battle has wore me weak
From restless sleep
The twilight mists disappear
And the cycle begins again
There must be sweet release.

When the years have passed
After they have torn me apart
When I look down
And see my bloodied feet
I'll sit down and sleep
My wandering days no more
Or so I hope
Home is waiting
And I've been longing
For a place to rest my weary soul.