And what of a flower
whose petals fall in a sacrificial ritual
to make room for new ones to grow

we come from the stars
that's what we were all taught
we're made of the same atoms

and what if i give color to these words?

we're not only former stars
we are also the sea, the paper ship, and the boat
we're following all the patterns
in the kaleidoscope of the world

but what if in us, as humans,
the content remains
and what changes is only the form

i am not afraid of dying
because when i die, i will finally come home

I'm standing at the roof of the school, looking out toward the sky.

All the clouds here are grey, as usual. The same mundane, and dull weather that always appears in this town.

Looking down, at the pavement below, I make my choice. As I jump off the roof, the wind blowing against my body as I fall to the ground.

Only to stop in the air, and float along with the wind, unable to understand what's happening, I float in an awed silence, becoming alike the wind, gentle, and flowing, moving blissfully through the air, only to come to my senses, once I notice that I'm far away from the school now.

I'm hovering over a grassy field, and I slowly start to ease downward to the ground, feeling my socks press against the ground, a cold sensation moving through my feet, and into my legs.

I smile softly, walking through the field, and laughing as I brush my hands against the grass, breaking into a small run, moving in any direction I want, taking in the natural beauty of the field, before I come across a clearing.

Curious, I slowly walk toward the feeling, my mouth agape in excitment for what I'll find. Only to see a long lost friend standing in the center of the clearing.

My eyes tear up, as I walk toward them.

Is this real?

Are they actually here?

Are my eyes deceiving me?

They look back to see me, the familiar smile I've missed, stuck on their face, as I move close to them, tears further escaping me, as they pull me into an embrace.

This field, is an escape.

There's hope to be had, once again.

They hated the snow she provided them
So they can build their snowmen.
They angered her, so she froze them in,
And they wished and prayed for the sun again.

She brought them light and butterflies
To hush their mouths and halt their cries.
They asked for roses, beets, and tangerines.
She cried to grow their floral dreams.

Her tears halted their outside time,
So they begged and asked for more sunlight.
She stopped her tears and obeyed their request,
And brought bees, fireflies, and sweat.

The flowers she brought gave them flus.
The bees she gave stung them blue.
The sun scorched and burned their skin,
So they begged and begged for the cold again.

She blew wind to cool them off.
She showed colors of brown and apricot.
She left leaves and pinecones around their house,
But they raked them up and threw them out.

They angered her, so she froze them in,
With hopes to never see them again!
She did everything they requested,
But they hated her no matter what she did.

Isn’t she lovely when she sighs in relief
And her breath twists and twirls the leaves?
After they burned her forest and left her in grief,
Mother Nature can finally breathe.

Lost at home drifting through the sea,
What once used to be thriving,
Annexed by unsighted debris,
The ice moved on feebly.

Nature has her magical ways,
Growing and changing the weathered days.
Despite the beautiful scenes she can provide,
Her magic is no match for mankind.

The ice wonders why it cannot fight.
It wonders why it has to survive.
As it floats around, it begs for the life
It once had in its past time.
As it is slowly shrinking in size,
The ice wonders why, oh why.

The ice’s foe enjoys his fun,
Living wildly under the sun.
The foe knows his materialistic behavior,
Does no good for him nor Mother Nature.
As the foe carelessly continues his unruly rights,
Why, oh why, wonders the ice.

With no defense, the ice moves along, hoping its past life will return.
The sky looked down at nature’s work. It too, mourned and yearned.
Slowly shrinking and passing by,
The ice wonders why, oh why.

I remember when it used to snow.
I’d stare in awe out my window.
‘You’ll get frostbite!’ I was told.
Now, I’m old and it barely gets cold.

I remember when it used to snow.
Even at night, you could see it glow.
The birds would leave, but now they stay.
Even they’re confused in these “winter” days.

I remember when it used to snow.
O my, wasn’t it beautiful?
My niece questions on the way home,
“What did it feel like, the snow?”

I call and I text, I hope and I pray,
Because there’s no one left, no one here to stay.
You’re busy with friends and I’m done saying please
I knew it was coming, the sound of the bees

You’ve climbed so high while I’m below
And you start to hear the bees temptation in the echo
I sit here and write, while you sit and laugh,
Stuck thinking of times when my heart wasn’t half.

I still remember when honey wasn’t scarce,
When I wasn’t left alone, caught in despair.
When others stripped ur pollen, and the garden bare
I had other flowers with plenty to share.

Flowers so elegant so white and crisp
It only lasted a while- a while of bliss
No
And though honey is sweet and bees are brave
They sting when scared, leaving them in the grave
But when desperation meets temptation ur left with our expiration
So now you’re up there with bees fitting in seamlessly

And so should I because flowers are overrated
Let my heart feel- no longer sedated

And though you were my only flower,
I’m not gonna cower
I don’t call or text nor hope or pray
there’s no one left, no one here to stay.

When your home is away from home
Your brain feels like the rolling storms overhead. Consuming the night with a crackling roar.
The lightning only briefly ignites the black void that surrounds you.
Every fleeting memory comes with every flash, every strike. There in an instant, gone in the next.
You think you need to find “light in the dark” and your left with this profound feeling
This awe, wonder, a small sense of joy in this void you stand in.
But you remember that lightning is rare at home
You remember how you felt at home
How it felt the same as seeing a bolt of lightning.

You remember when you experienced your first thunderstorm with the one you call home.
You remember that your home would have loved to see this.

You walk dazed and dissociated for miles mulling over the past, your mistakes, your health. You drag on mourning your love.
You ridicule and loath yourself. Thoughts slowly frying in the blistering Midwest heat.

Then days come where there's an overcast.
A cool drizzle.
A comfortable sixty-degree day.
You see fog in the distance, and you can smell moisture in the air.
You stare at a pine tree longer than socially acceptable, knowing it's the closest reminder you have to feeling your roots. Knowing there's a whole rainforest beckoning for you to come back.

You sit at a lake and hear the Puget sound screaming your name. You can almost feel the sand beneath your feet. The waves against your skin. You can see the view vivid and longing in your mind. The sunsets, the mountains, the water, the smell of nature all around.
But then you remember your favorite spots. The countless memories with lovers and friends.
You remember all the conversations, the thrill fueled parties and adventures. You remember her. The hobbies, the quirks, the fun. The passion. The love. You remember she shared the same connection.

You stare at the Rockys and see their beauty. Their grandeur, their vastness.
But the peaks and slopes don't compare
They don't live up to Rainier.
They don't live up to the subtle shades of grey and blue, the snow caps, or the rolling green hills. You want to appreciate it…
But you know the last time you looked at those mountains, who you had brought home.

You miss the lights, the energy, the spirit of your city. The variety of your people. You miss the bars, and venues, and restaurants, the extravagant outings. You miss knowing all the spots, you miss riding the train. You miss the city life. You miss the partying, the dancing, the drugs. You miss her.

But you also miss the city life…
The one that took you down. Took you home.
And you know at this home you have family, but that family can't help you. That family can't love you the same.
You watch the toll you take; the tears swell in their eyes over the person they think you've become,
and you feel ashamed cause you know it's the person you always were.
You're reminded of all your childhood trauma and are thrown into the same environment you spent years escaping.
You feel lost.
Because you are.
Because your home away from home
is no longer a home.