I am at peace with who I am.

To the girls who grew up too fast,
now women who cling to hopes of magic,
I'd like to propose a toast and raise a glass-
the reality we escape from is tragic.

Whether your vision is a knight or prince,
or even a jester at times,
I want you to know I feel less alone,
drinking tea and reading your rhymes.

To the ones who whisper to stars at night,
who still make wishes when clocks strike eleven- eleven,
we may not have fairytales etched in gold,
but we scribble our own versions of heaven.

To the ones who carry too much weight,
and still find time to dream,
here’s to healing in fragments and poems,
and patching our hearts at the seams.

Our laughter echoed in the forest.
Chill wind tangling my hair.
Good insulation in my chest.  
Knowing glances.
Someone cares.
Such a brief moment—
Fog and Fate
Humans are social animals.
Today I was reminded
—in the sweetest way.

I don’t know if you ever listened to the sky

when it gets hungry.

It growls.
It rumbles.
Even roams.

It sits in the dark,
contemplating what it wants.

Then,

Boom.

Thunder hits
without warning.

At some point,
we've all been there
hungry, with no idea
what we want to eat,
no one to ask,
everything sounding good.

Thunder hits again.

The hush left to whisper
between lips,
******* in air.

It’s enough to make you mad.

The rain doesn’t wait.
The lightning
not knowing where to begin.

Hunger waits for release.

I am the moment
that waits for you

in-between

You don't have to believe me when I say
They might just love you anyway

What do I even know
But they may notice if you don't show

I know it really isn't my place
To ask if you checked just in case

Knocked on the door
They slammed into my face

At least
The olive branch is free
Please,
Take it with you when you leave

When they let us back into the building
two days later,
it felt like visiting the library of Pompeii.
our world, frozen in a single
unthinkable moment

We all did it
Silently, and instinctively,
we recapped the borrowed pens,
recycled the scrap paper
and reshelved the stray novels
abandoned by our fleeing patrons

We dusted off tables
We checked the bookdrops
We scanned the public spaces
cross-referenced our gut reactions
with a checklist of trauma responses

We took note of the missing books
by the doors, where the blood was -
absence, often the most visible
evidence of tragedy
We took deep breaths
We pushed in chairs

We ******* loose ends
on our plans for next month
We sent emails to tell folks
their classes were cancelled for the week
We gathered
listened and talked
We comforted one another

We went on doing all the small,
important, invisible work we do -
through our grief,
through our fear,
through our trauma
- for the people

The Wolf, it hungered, while you stayed warm,
Bound to its pack, shaped by the storm,
Through frost and through famine,
The Wolf, it did suffer, while The Dog lay secure.

But when disaster did strike, stealing Dog's home,
She was left to the frost, forsaken, alone,
She wandered as prey, and trembled in fear,
Until one day, she saw naught but a pack,
Warm, safe numbers, a home-- one she lacked,
And so she found herself The Wolf,
Mercy, she asked, May I join your pack?

The Wolf, it snarled, when she begged for stay,
Herald The Dog who yearns for warmth!
When she had comfort when we had naught!
The Dog bowed her head, but she could not,
Explain to The Wolf what it owed her not.

The Dog, she wandered, searching for fire,
But the world was not warm as her home had once been.
So she carved her own pack,
Starved through the winter,
Charged into battle, unraveled by the years,
And so came to be, The Dog was assured,
That in her place, The Wolf endured.

Singing together

in a circle we pass on --


our breath wavily.