so we placed the work on censorship.



little boats,  welsh not, #bandaged

books and what nots.



they had been there

some time, yet were not noticed

i guess.



it may have been nose bleed that done

it. she censored it all, shoved in

a drawer, even the refugees

crossing.



i go to the ship now, and

i hear she threw the jazz band out



too.

There are silences that don’t come from peace,
but from being quietly, persistently excluded.
This poem speaks to that — to the kind of moment where someone enters a room
and is met with the coldness of not being welcomed.

It isn’t loud.
It isn’t dramatic.
But it stays.

When the Room Falls Silent

It wasn’t the first time.
It’s happened before.

The hush arrived like an old companion,
unwelcome, settling in the corners
as she walked into the room.
She knew it well.

They were talking —
her husband’s son, wife,
and former sister-in-law.
A circle she couldn’t penetrate.
No matter how hard she tried.
Or what she tried.

Many years of setting down roots.
Creating a new life
in soil that never quite warmed to her.
No longer in her home country.
She moved across the world for him.
She sacrificed.
Because of love.
True love.

She felt out of place.
In her own home.
She wanted to crawl away.
She smiled, again.
Apologized, again.
As if entering a room
was unappreciated
when you don’t match the pattern of the others.

But she remembers another time.
In another place.

When something opened —
a warmth still nameless.
She thought maybe things were different
maybe she belonged.
Finally.

She carried that memory with care.
Hope. Happiness.

But this time
the frost returned.
The coldness.
The silence was deafening.
With a message.
You are not welcome.
⸻

Still —

She is not invisible.
She is not less.
She exists.
She has value.

She is simply is not theirs.
But she is hers.
And she will not spend her life
trying for the unattainable.
It hurts too much.
At times crushing.

Infinity is the fabric of time that eternity wraps around itself .

Excuses
are the white bread
spinal taps
that alleviate
the sticky
super glue
of truth

As the fireworks
Burst around in
Circles and all the
Different designs, the
Evening gets longer. So cheers
For all the
Good times we've
Had.
I wouldn't trade them for anything. It's
Just so bitter sweet.
Kids having the time of their lives,
Lost in time.
Memories in the making.
Noises of the summer.
Overwhelming excitement in the air.
Patriotism, the red, white, and blue.
Quick little moments fly by.
Relatives and friends having a blast.
Smells of good ole homemade cooking. Just some
Toasting and traditions along the way.
Unbelievable love and sacrifice.
Visioning every night like this one.
Water balloons flying in the air.
eXpectations of the night, blown away.
Yelling and singing every word to every song.
Zoned in on honor and enjoying life on the 4th of July.