Like cold water that makes your skin tingle,
And the shining rocks that hold it,
Like the strength of tiny waves that drag you to dream (to live),
In your waterfall, you heard me.

And your sweet touch on my burns set me aflame,
And your hands awakened in me what I thought was dead.
And my tongue grew again, after years of having cut it with torment,
And you showed me the sky, you showed me the uncertain.

And I began to speak.
And I spoke and spoke so much that my heart grew tired and my words ran out,
Yet still, you listened.
And you were so bold, so harsh, so kind,
So difficult, so sad, so tender,
So cold, so fresh, so you—
That I created a dictionary just to compose words in your name,
And I started with the word “waterfall,”
And I sank into you.

I like how you listen.

I call upon my brother,
but he does not hear my plea.

So I call upon my sister—
to find that neither does she.

So I write a little note,
to myself and to my soul,
on parchment not quite yet turned yellow,

with the thought that maybe,
once it does,
I will remember to remind myself—
to care for those a bit younger.

Sometimes,
you got to stand up,
speak out, and
get on your soap box,
Say what's on your mind,
reveal to people
your true thoughts,
they might be harsh, or
they might be kind,
just pouring out
your true feelings,
of truthfulness is
what they will find,
Be the Voice,
speak up, and be heard,
make it very clearly,
let people hear your words,
some people may oppose, or
may not even agree,
some, will comprehend,
while others will probably flee,
some people will follow,
while others will disagree,
Please do not be offended,
It is the decision of
PEOPLE and CHOICE,
You just have to BE STERN, and
STAY FIRM, and
JUST CONTINUE
TO BE THE VOICE!!!!


B.R.
Date: 6/26/2025

"What happened?", asks the heart.
"None of your business", replies cupid.

or

"What happened?", asks life.
"A chemical imbalance", replies the brain.  

or

"What happened?", asks poetry.
"You listened to me, for once," replies the gut.

Calm yourself, dear soul;  
the difficult times do not last forever.  
Everything comes to an end,  
and sometimes an ending is simply the universe's way of giving you time to recognize that your path is shifting.  
The direction you take will ultimately lead you home.  
Embrace the shift and listen closely to its whispers.  
Just as you can hear the echo of wisdom within a seashell you’ve picked up from the shore,  
you too can hear this guidance if you quiet your mind and soul enough to listen.

-Rhia Clay

If I wrote all my thoughts
On tiny scraps of paper,
Or tapped onto a blinding white screen-
Could I call it poetry?
Would people listen to me then?