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People go missing from our lives
Either leave or disappear
Or may appear unfamiliar
Hard to feel they were once
Intimate part of your life
Had a place in your heart.

Then they depart
Either you let them go
Or they leave you.

Maybe after years
You remember them with silent tears
Wished they had not gone
You shouldn't have let them go.

Guilt sits a weight in your heart
It's you made them depart
You and you and you
It's why relationships are few.

Hold those few strong,
Who knows
You may again go wrong.
round waterlily,  

fragile holding above surface,  

dancing with the light.
Your hands rise,
lifting me like the sun lifts the sea,
like roots pressing upward
through the weight of the earth.

Soft, yet forged in fire,
they carry the echoes of old wars,
eyewitnesses to the quiet battles
fought behind closed doors,
where love and labor
bleed into one another.

These hands have sewn the sky together,
stitched the open wound of hunger,
performed CPR on broken dreams,
forcing life breath to breath
into what the world tried to abandon.

They have held me when I was
spiraling out of control,
when the weight of existence
pressed into my chest
like an ocean refusing to let go.

I have seen them whisper over water,
stirring secrets into steam,
curiosity flickering in their fingertips
as they trace the edges of another day.
Unforgettable memories live in their creases—
the hush of a mother brushing fevered skin,
the press of fingers that say,
I am here. You will not fall.

Oh, hands of women, hands of warriors,
who write history into my skin,
who lift me, who hold me,
who do not ask for thanks—
only the courage to go on.
God bless my fellow colleagues, you raise me up daily, not the easiest of jobs, I work with severely disabled youths, we're always encouraging each other to keep smiles on our faces.
She said he hurt her,  
a wound wrapped in soft lullabies,  
his voice a serpent  
coiling 'round her dreams,  
where the green fern forest  
breathed secrets into the night,  
and moss shrouded the bones  
of forgotten civilizations.

In the day,  
she fashioned dreams  
like delicate glass,  
eyes half-closed,  
floating through the crowd,  
a specter among the living,  
while shadows,  
like whispered promises,  
clung to her skin.

At night,  
the seconds drip drop,  
heavy as rain on a tin roof,  
each tick a heartbeat,  
each pause a gasp,  
he follows her  
as a prayer follows its own  
search for grace,  
the memory of a violence  
that needed no voice,  
only the cold embrace  
of silence wrapped around her.

In the twilight,  
she gathers the frayed edges of her soul,  
sifting through the dark  
for remnants of light,  
for the lullabies  
that cradle her in the depths,  
reminding her that even in shadows,  
the heart learns to beat again,  
even in the echo of pain,  
there is a flicker,  
a stubborn flame.
A laugh, a tear—  
what do we do with this cold world?  
She asks for so little,  
yet the air thickens with unspoken anger,  
a toll from a long week,  
severe and heavy,  
as if life itself demands a final request.  

Promises of sweet slumber,  
the kind that cradles the soul,  
shattered by lingering conversations,  
each word a delicate thread,  
pulled taut by a plea that feels whimsical.  
Fear, that insidious creature,  
wraps its tendrils around her heart,  
craving comfort,  
a whisper of security amid chaos.  

Why weave such doubts into the fabric of love?  
Why not simply exist,  
free from the weight of dominance?  
Old-fashioned beliefs linger like ghosts,  
it was merely a treat,  
a gesture of affection—  
can't you see?  

Letting go feels like breathing underwater,  
the pressure rising,  
and still, I reach out,  
a decorated veteran of this emotional war.  
A gift, tenderly offered,  
but you chose to turn away,  
clouding the tender moments  
that could burst forth with joy.  

I’m sorry for this weight,  
for the burden you perceive,  
but all I seek is connection,  
even as the world spins cold  
without you beside me.
A dove flies over
the stone angel...

feather drifts down.

Haiku by a friend
who also commented...

dove flies over
The stone angels uplifting eyes
A feather drifts down


Soul Survivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
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