He stood on the corner waiting,
for the light to flash its cue.
He wore a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt,
his hands worn and tired with age.
A twitch formed in his left hand.
A laugh formed on his lips.
And when the light changed he stayed and waited.
Until out of nowhere a small child raced across the street.
"Grandpa!"
His sweatshirt matched.
And my heart was happy.

Like water held back
By reservoirs.
Like a reckless tsunami
Leaving no survivors.

Like ferocious winds
Engulfing small cities.
Like a broken mind
Trying to be less gritty.

Like a torn out page,
With a lot to say.
Like immense outrage,
Finding its way.

Like oceans with worlds
Hidden beneath.
Like a universe - vast
But also discreet.

Like pen to paper,
No holding back.
Like a mind unleashing
An open attack.

Words that are struggling,
Constantly fighting -
To see light of day,
Such is her writing.