katie Sep 7
sometimes
you realise
others' words
are not
enough, that
they cannot
placate the ache,
so you look
inward
& outward,
to the view,
to the trees & sky,
to the only
things that
will ever hear
you cry.
katie Sep 2
you may not go
but each breath is
easier knowing that
there are woods,
forest, fells that exist
outside of this,
there is a difference
between the space
here where
the air is clear &
you know that
however displaced this
can restart a heart,
remind you who
you are,
***** back your clothes
& roles & reacquaint
yourself
with the old,
the parts of speech
that are lost to
time, that hang
out of reach
like the promise
of fish on a line,
search the depths
to see what
you can find.
katie Aug 9
today you
pray that the air
will hold
your weight,
that with
every step
the fear will
dissipate &
you will
be as ubiquitous
as sky, just another
passer by
who can force the
head & heart
to mend & for
a time pretend.
katie Aug 6
that list of things to do
hangs like a view filled
with heavy grey clouds  

you watch & wait for
the bird that will make
the first tear that will *****

open the light with its flight
& flood the gloom, restart a
body, factory, city, awaken

it from its misery & allow it to
see what could be
katie Aug 4
the mouths
move in a
synchronised
troop but
nobody is
moved
because
nobody
speaks.
it has always
been
this way
the same
play performed
day after day
& night
after night
to a room
in the dark
that can't
find the light.
katie May 12
on the
highway road
home,
when the traffic
is tight
as clams, and the
heat is
full on jammed, i want to peel
back the metal and see
the complexity
that carries me. i want
to stop and
admire the sun
pull back the skies and
sear my
mesmerised eyes.
i want to run
across a field
and feel the damp grass
beneath my heels,
pore
over the dust and ants,
and listen to them dance.
katie Apr 27
you are
stuck between
four walls,
your visitation
two till four,
at the end of a
medicine laced
corridor of
white painted walls.
where trauma
is sealed in  
floorboards &
alcoves &
the cleaner scrubs at the
panes  
but you still feel it
a day later on the skin.
a litany of stories
in the suds,
crying out to be
understood.
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