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 Jul 2014 Jwala Kay
SG Holter
These are not broken bones.
They are bruises at most, from
A teacher's cane.
It's cool, I'm learning at
The best of schools; Life.
It's not built by wood or stone.
These are not broken bones.

These are not broken homes.
They are children freed from
Angry voices.
We're only flesh, blood; hearts
Grow apart. Grow better on
Their own.
These are not broken homes.

These are not broken lives.
They are journeys; adventures,
Drama; breath.
These lives are not broken, there's
Only dirt on those knees; no blood.
This is not Hell, this is Life, this is
School, this is your tale to tell.

Those are not scars, they are lines
On a map.
Those are you feet moving steadily;
Trust them to carry your weight.
You may travel as one, but you're
Never alone.
And those are not broken bones.
i want to experience things.
life,
and all of its ins and outs.
its beautiful sorrows and painstaking highs.
i am a girl hungry to see the world.
ready to consume the sights i have yet to see.
to drink in revolutionary ideas with my mind.
 Jul 2014 Jwala Kay
Wanderer
The ties between us
Once Valhalla steel and thunder
Now more that of Aradnian gossamer frayed thin
We gave our all
Now there is nothing left but softness
Gazes still lock
In friendship
The smell of your skin lingers
Against my sheets
I'll always be here
To comfort
To care
Although this road ahead for us splits
They all lead to the same end
I'll be there.
For Sverre. May your loss feel less heavy today. Hope burns.
 Jul 2014 Jwala Kay
Wanderer
The light from a Nordic sun
Casts soft shadows around your haloed skull
Blessed with the voice of God
Speaking through every crack you have let come loose
Your laughter ricochets off of glass screen
Thor's thunder in mortal form  
LED back lights highlighting your face in joyful relief
I am in awe
Across many landscapes our revelry roams
Making bold statements through electric edges
Slinging axe and sword for sport
Yet you gentle at a warm touch
Curling possessively around those you love
A protector unknown but always on watch
Your rough hands glide over plastic satin buttons
ahhh... such sweet music they make
Lulling me into a lassitude of comfort
Of good humor
Of lust
We are like children in our recess
Bantering from one side to the other with gauntlets thrown
Pick it up!
Gladly...then up the bar and throw it back down
Will it always be like this?
"I don't know"

I plan on sticking around to find out
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