Write from the shoulders. The throat. The hands.
When life seems to take another turn.
And I am heavy laden.
My shoulders bear the weight.
But I believe nothing can take me down.
So after a tear or two has fell from my eyes.
I wash my face, lift my shoulders, clear my throat, let my hands swing and with confidence.
I exit the room with my head held up high.
And a swag too my walk.
Because no one has the right.
Too diminish another.
restless cloud
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 5:50 PM UTC