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Christmas present? Ham. Mom's gift - no spiral
Just sliced it, diced it, multiply, divide - nothing left by the wayside
Bone broth made
Compound interest
Cut it up three... maybe 4 ways
Skyline chili and a...
Splash!  head above...
Relax dad, I can swim, I'm still YOUR daughter
Your wife, though, she said...
Forget what she said
People talk. Hush, shh! It's true  - she's wild
Mild and indifferent
when the meek inherits the Earth
but as long as evil spawns from birth
bound are not my wrists with worry or fear
every time someone whispers my name in another's ear
Blood on my tongue before I sob
Self reliant, I found another job
Over
time
always
No Sleep Quality In(n) daylight hours
Florescent lights
8 to 8
No time to sit around and...
Wait!
Where's my soup?!
That's all I have
One hundred and eighty food stamps
One hundred and eighty blessings each month
But not enough for you to take my lunch.
Part of a spoken word representing a dream, hard work w/ little reprieve.  Willingness to stand up to whosoever tells you "you can't do it" and those who think they can profit off of the young, vulnerable or those without social support.
All words are true.
Sit summer,
upon my lips.
Unwind winter's work.
Sunlight, reclaim your victorious reign.
Unfurl flower's necks draping heavily in dew.
Sunflowers await to greet you.


Warm wind, whip against the plot.
Harvesters' hasty hands left holes too large for the sun to undo.
Rain, make anew.
Like dew, sit summer, upon my lips.
That word is the first to surface when I think of you
If anyone asked me
'Who is the strongest person
I ever knew?'
I would tell them it was you

A neighbor told me this today - true.

To hit home, it's funny how I had to hear it from someone
I barely knew.
I feel things.

I feel things a lot.

I feel things the eyes cannot see.

I feel the significance in other people's moments.
I feel the transformation of strangers created by their life journeys.
I feel the lingering vibrations from words left unspoken.

I feel the urge to produce comfort to people incapable of acknowledging my accommodations.
I feel my mother's abandonment in every distant object I use to avoid the fleeting intimacy of passerby's eyes.

I feel the historical heaviness of silent protest demonstrated in my children's stillness and bowed heads in all the times I chose academic responsibilities over their activities.

I felt the depth of God's sorrow for humanity flood over me when I opened my divorce decree.

I just felt generations of constraints intact before me, break free from my children's legacy.
"How does it feel to finally have your degree?" he asked.
I dive deep into the waters depth unknown,
my spirit reaches out to grasp the light shining from the ocean floor.

The shadows of your heart are where my reflection shines brightest, almost pure.
One fleeting moment reminds me of my human limitations - my lungs.
I can’t remember my last breath, the one I vowed to hold until you loan me yours.

My skin glistens golden once I am in your light/although pretty/ although aglow/ I should know better; it is still night.
The sun arrives and my magic is gone.

I ask, “can I live in the sun?” You say, “it’s not to share.”
“Is this how you shine so bright?” I ask, but no one is there.

The moon and stars explode, and I am left in the dark, alone, to find my way home.

Empty and out of air, I float up to the tide.
The familiar finds its way back into view, but never in my heart, for it is with you.

— The End —