Hi, I'm

little girl, you're a dreamt dancer, a once hopefully ballerina, in a music box that was built at an early age.
bigger life will be reflected back to you, but not for you.

This is my wife,
This is my mother,

young woman, why are you here?
why did you let them do this to you?

I call her Honey.
We call her Mom.

"no, wait, I'm
know me
remember who I am/was," you say.

Honey! Where is...
Mom! Can you...

          , far from the path now.
a maze of thorns and always sickening surprises.

must get the dose right, must make sure the carb count is right, must check that the blood sugar is right for the son who can't do it himself.

life's toss of a coin, suspiciously rigged perhaps? superstition? i don't know, but you're cornered, back to the wall, no railing.

must do all the paper work, must support all of his dreams, must do all of the planning, mustn't have time for yourself, your life.

must continue.

HONey! I need you to...
Mom! Look at...

where have you gone, dreamt dancer?
oh, to the Graveyard.
inside the mind where wild thoughts and hopes and adventure go to pass.

no support, only frayed webbing leading to nowhere, or to venom, sister, brother, "friend".

only you now. and me I guess. unwilling, but an understanding therapist. an angry observer and a tired voice. the daughter to the mother.

Well, what the **** do you want me to do, HONEY!
Mom! Come here!

you're tired, I know. painful sleep and long nights dedicated to other people along with your mind. your body, your bones are load bearing. it's an incalculable weight when caring for others.

Insert Your Name Here:

HONEY! HONEY! HONEY!

I don't know, HONEY! HONEY!

Mom! Mom! Mom!

Hey, Mom!

The lilt of silence
exists within a room
a ceiling high and warm
the sound is rounded
as it lays longingly on the window sill
where the dust settles and the day joins in
it is dull and worn like soft leather
And when crammed into a closet
arms length and abrupt
it falls short of being anything more than
a breath

But when silence is allowed to spread
over gentle bodies
and soak deep into the wood
life feels timeless and free

in the lilt of silence

why do i build my houses out of leaves
each house for each Name

i stand them up, fingers coaxing them, willing them to stay
knowing full well that even the sunlight weighs too heavy

but i stack one on top of the other, a skyscraper of myself
hoping it'll be different this time as it sways, a sickening motion

a drop of rain causes the rooves to collapse as i struggle to keep so many of them up with my palms, using my spine load-bearing

they are stable, my fingers braced against the walls, my feet digging into the mud, my back arched and twisted, and i tell myself it's worth it

the large storm finally grays the skies and my houses are rustling at the pressure and i rearrange it all to cover them, godless prayers

lightning crackles and burns through the clouds to impact the ground
and i can't stop it

my houses begin to flutter apart like frightened birds as i try to grasp at them with damaged hands but i miss

a flash of bright white, the sun devouring the earth, and a splitting snap of wood and facade

a tree motions towards me and my pile of scattered leaves
but the mud is to my knees and my hands are clambering at fistfuls and my eyes are wide as it gets closer

And I find out nothing you said ever meant anything at all.

I could watch the trees
every waking hour
But in the evening
when the smell of lilacs drift around me
When the spring air kisses
one if the many green fingers of an oak
And the light,  filtered and plush, lingers
Begging to stay
Just a few more moments
is my favorite
I am moved
by these Last Moments
because soon the light will be gone
and the dark will fill every curve and every edge
because it will never be the same way
again