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To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi
 Apr 2018 Sandra Lee
Ciel Noir
They tell me that I've lost my mind

Fake news! You're fired! That's a red line!

They tell me that my hands are small
they
don't
believe
me
BURN THEM ALL
 Apr 2018 Sandra Lee
Cné

Hanging like a scimitar
suspended in the sky,
the moon beside a gleaming star
is pleasing to the eye.
How desolate, this satellite
in airless ebon space
and yet, from here
‘tis beautiful
filagree & lace.

 Apr 2018 Sandra Lee
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
 Apr 2018 Sandra Lee
Grand Piano
You know how when you’re trying to sleep
But your mind is racing
How you’re trying to be still
But your thoughts are on the move
Ideas, Regrets, What ifs, Fear
All demanding to be heard
To be felt
To be validated
You know how when you’re not ok
But you’re trying to be ok
And then someone ask you if you are ok
So you break down all over again
Sometimes you want them to read your mind
To know the answer before the question
You know that pain that’s so great it feels
Like a physical weight holding you down?
All you want is a hand to carry the load
A shoulder to leave tear stained
An embrace to feel safe and loved in
You know that feeling when you’re screaming inside
But still wanting desperately to be heard
The struggle of trying to save yourself
But still hoping for a hero
So I posted this before and I guess it glitched because I was posting from my phone. Here’s the fixed version! To the person that let me know. Thank you so much
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
 Apr 2018 Sandra Lee
Stefan Smith
As you enter into those moments
when your trials oppress you
and you slowly feel the life
being drawn from your bones.
Remember,
that even the trees are meant to enter into seasons
where they lose their leaves and stand defenseless
from the harsh winter winds.

But never forget
that there will always come a time
when they'll finally catch their breath,
as the still spring air hugs them,
and begin their journey of growing into
a taller, more confident kind of presence
with deepened roots and a flourishing canopy
that's ready to waltz with the wind.
there is intimacy in tribulation.
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