A porcelain doll
Shatters when she hits the floor
Only shards are left
So she mends herself again,
Again, again, and again.

Sometimes, it feels as if my arms
are reaching out to the sky
as gravity pulls everything I am
all the way down, beyond the ground
into those little spaces
inside my head
where I scold myself
and say everything is dead
where I run my hands
against jagged edges
looking for reasons to bleed
but even then, like two ropes
tight around my wrists
or better yet, two hands
with an endless grip
hope, or the glass dish on the top shelf
whatever it is, it pulls and pulls
till I flood, and those little spaces
vanish, momentarily

This is the last night
I'll sleep in this city
In this place
Ive called home for three years

This is the last night
I can even pretend
I live in the same city
As all of my friends

This is the last night
Of this part of my life

It's been a tough three years
But also the best ive ever had
Im not where i need to be yet
But im trying

And i guess its alright
That we're all leaving
One another behind

Because its about time
I learn to start living
Because i want this life
And not just because
I want them in mine

Do you think I’m enough?
Mother do you finally think I’m enough?
My precious child, I love you. Listen to me carefully, do you think I’m enough?
Excuse me, sir? Yes! Thank you. Do you have a moment to spare, do you think I’m enough?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                             A Small-Minded Man

Oh, yes, I am a very small-minded man
Whose horizon stops at the apple trees
Whose vision is much upon the little things:
A tiny snail upon a pepper-plant leaf

A placid rabbit nibbling at the lawn
A squirrel feasting on his daily grains and seeds
A bluebird shyly hiding among the oaks
A mockingbird mocking all the rest of us

No grand visions for me; I will not leave
Small villages of dead bodies and wicked smoke
The rotting bodies of children and animals
Cratered cities of bomb-blackened ruins and stench

I promote no world-changing master plan -
Deo Gratias, I am a very small-minded man

In a realm where morning dew caresses ancient stones, where wisdom’s breath is sweet,
I tread a path where peace blooms, and divine whispers gently greet.
My spirit, once a wanderer, now stands in fields of golden light,
Yet in the eyes that glance my way, I’m a safe harbor in the night.

Though I’ve sculpted my heart with tender hands and crafted dreams with care,
Why am I but a distant shore, a calm retreat from tempest’s snare?
In life’s vast symphony of stars, I long to be the vibrant tune,
Not merely the familiar chord, but the melody that makes hearts swoon.

Perhaps it’s fate’s unseen threads that weave us into roles we never chose,
I stand, a vessel of tranquility, yearning for the day that truth bestows.
To be seen not as a comfort found when every other dream has fled,
But as the flame that lights the soul’s deep quest, a choice for which hearts are led.