broken castles and fallen stones tell so many stories about our souls.
in and out they weave without the loss of history we need.
it's a shame to say you'll never know the loss of what wasn't saved.
but there's hope without respite or doubt,
that your memory will never leave.

)/. ||..\/..||../(/

Lilies and selloum,
anthuriums, snake plants
and wood sorrels,
pink bougainvilleas and crotons
greet me every morning,
they keep green poetry alive and
in motion, as sighs of joy awaken
and nourish the brightly verdant.

i walk the few steps to the small
front garden...every breath taken
reminds me of
precious oxygen they give,
we breath out carbon dioxide,
they gladly accept...

i keep wondering,
"where, when, and how
did these mutualistic symbiotic
relationships come about?"
we would not...cannot survive
without them.

someone's, or something's refuse,
could be another's lifeline, or treasure,
no one...nothing...stays an island...


Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 23, 2020

It's like a hole. Where my feelings are supposed to be.
It's not like I don't feel, I do feel certain things.
But it's a brief passing of an emotion.
When I'm happy, it's only for a moment.
Yet when I'm sad, it hits hard and heavy
It's like a hole.
But I feel that hole
All the time