Turn the wheel
to kiss the side of the road
and unload
your bag from the trunk.
Small enough for your short stay.
You fell right back into our lives then you were gone.

You head inside and rush through the people
coming and going.
Back to California
with fresh new images of Colorado--the mountains, the crisp fall air
and the memories to layer on top of last year
when you were here with us
a part of us.
And it felt so easy,
like you belonged because you did.

Just a quick taste of what is used to be.
And we miss our missing friend
and feel a little less whole
now that we've had her and she's gone again.

I give myself to the world
in the hopes that I could change it.
Remake it from these lost souls,
dissolve this culture of hate.
But the further I dive, the harder it is to breathe
surrounded by all this suffering
it's exhausting
to be idealistic.

Should I just surrender?
Say goodbye, and give in
to the weight of the impossible?
To think this dream could turn plausible
is a fading vision as I wake.

But I get up everyday, still .
I say, "You have so much to be grateful for,"
and it makes me ******* hate it more
because it will always be too much.
I give and I give
and I'm
WEAK
with life
WEAK
with love
and I can't stop taking.

But somehow,
this weakness makes me stronger
connected to all those others
who hold the world each day,
are brave enough to whisper,
"I'll go on with you."

The morning breaks through the clouds
and the sun hits the green in the hills
so right,
like a scene from a foreign movie.
The main character embarking into unknown,
captivating rocks cradling them
as they ride the train to new lands.

Steam from the heat of day
rising and mixing with the wind and the breath.
So full but so silent,
only nature's stories.

But it's not far away
or a place I've never known.
It's home.
And I can't believe it's mine.