The sweet feeling of independence entangles itself into my soul as time passes and bad memories grow old. The feeling of an evenings summer's breeze caressing your hair as enjoyment becomes irresistible as a puppies innocent stare.

How do you think life will be if we all were forced to think the same? The opinionated would play their games, the innocent would be put to shame. If the world shared the same perception of beauty we'd be just turn monstrous and snooty. People would tear each other apart, the dumb will mock the smart. The strong will become weak, more insecurities no one seeks. Fake will be the new real and lips will be forced sealed. The world has come to this as in today as to why most have chosen to go astray.

Inequality is the most horrible thing anyone would ever have to go through. But I don't  want to hear anything a white male has to say. Plus he's cis he's unimportant, accept me for my gender or I'll rip you to shreds just like you did to me although we just met 3 minutes ago. I hate the cops they should all drop dead! But someone broke into my house last night let me dial 911 to have them locked up.

I believe in freedom of speech but let me interrupt you because you're wrong and offensive and no one wants to hear! Say no to body shaming but you're thinner so I'll criticize yours because big is beautiful. Say no to thin privilege "we are all beautiful in our own way don't degrade"

You don't like what I like, you're nothing to me and you're ugly too! But let's not judge a book by it's cover. They don't like me because of my color! Well did they say that was why? No you probably spouted crap again. It's just plain racism, no other way to describe this situation.

Look at you wearing all that makeup you're so fake. You must be insecure since you had plastic surgery. Because you look ugly at least you look better now " everyone is beautiful" except for you of course! You didn't agree with my political views why do you matter?

wind rocking the night
shakes fences
unbolts wooden gates

                                         falling rose petals
                                         pirouette
                                         across unmown grass  

morning unwraps me
rolling sleep
onto sunlit floors

I'm glad you were spared
this hurt, Elizabeth.

If you were still alive
I'd journey again across the hills,

let our tears be his anointing,
our embrace his burial shroud.

John was the first to greet me
thirty years ago,

leapt for joy at the news I carried,
startled a blessing from your lips.

I marvelled as he grew,
plumped out your womb

until it hung beneath your gown
like an over-ripe pear.

I remember the kindness
of silent Zechariah,

noisy chickens in the courtyard
and the smell of raisin cakes.

I remember busy prayerful days
overblown with heat

until a breeze sweetened the valley,
lulled you into a doze.

You woke to rain
sounding the rooftops

and your own sharp cries
breath-held then relinquished.

I remember the with- woman's
skilful hands cradling John's head,

catching his sudden slippery length
glistening with your blood.

He's a stone statue
on the old wire fence,
onyx eyes staring
as I sky-gaze..

Too white for rain,
too grey for snow.

I turn, tread noisily
and his heart's
a remembered flame
in the dying bush.