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Brooke P Jun 2020
Prisms casted rainbows
that danced on the walls
from the mirrored doors my uncle installed
onto my bedroom closet.
Just like that,
the old brown wood was discarded
and, in its place,
a heavier, more durable barrier
between my private belongings
and the hellscape I was forced to inhabit outside of them.

More often than not,
they were a barricade between
what I didn’t want to hear
and the comfort of old dance costumes
and holiday dresses I’d outgrown
all lined up in a row,
soft robes to melt into after a bath
and my trusty, fuzzy pink earmuffs.
I paraded around the house in them,
as a symbol of the silence I desired
or a more obvious cry for help.

I remember when we went to Lake George and didn’t return
and how I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just go home.
I didn’t want to stay on vacation,
I wanted to sleep in my own bed.
I remember smashing my hands
against my ears
to keep out the shouting
and sitting awake in bed,
waiting to hear the garage door to go up,
because then I knew you’d be home
and you’d be safe, and we’d be safe
and we could all fall asleep in the same house,
whether my happily ever after
was based in reality
or a bedtime story I told myself every night
so that I could finally rest my eyes
in hopes that my mind would follow.
Milan Thomas Jun 2020
I find comfort in the whisper of your voice, as your breathe softly awakens the hairs on the back of my neck.
Shelter in the warmth of your skin at 2am when the streets have fallen silent.

As your hand rests delicately on the skin below my chest the world around us slows and for a brief moment my mind is at home.

But once the door closes behind you it’s as though 10,000 stars are stolen from the sky and in that moment a dark shadow begins to dim the once glistening light.

As our movie draws to an end and the credits begin to roll,my eyes trace your silhouette in the dark where it once lay.
My breath leaves my body heavy now,as though I’m gasping for something I can no longer see, feel or touch.

It’s as if all of a sudden the roof over my head is torn away with a gust of reality
Realising that the shelter I felt was only temporary.

A stopover, an escape, just another passing moment.
Realising that it can never be mine to take because for someone else that warmth is more than just shelter, it is a home.

A warm, welcoming smile after a long day at work.
A safe embrace on days when tears begin their stream down the curve of her flushed cheek.

She’ll find comfort in the way you hold her hand, fingers intertwined like the roots of the most delicate flower.
Safety, in the way your arms pull her closer in the night, the warm skin of your chest gently pressing against her as she falls back; blissfully, into a dream.

A dream, that’s how our moments felt. The whole time I knew I had to wake up eventually, it was a ticking time bomb I’d tried so hard to disarm. Sometimes I thought that maybe,just maybe if I squeezed my eyes closed for a second longer, I’d get just one more moment with you.

One more of those mornings, eyes still heavy with sleep as you reach for my hand beneath the sheets.
One more aimless walk through the park, weaving through crowds of slow moving sun seekers, searching for colour in the dried up flower beds.

Maybe this time if I knew it would be the last, I could take it all in for just a few more seconds. Just a little longer so I could remember how it all felt. Every sweet hum of laughter, every vulnerable tear shed, every time you made me feel whole and human.

Funny thing about time is, those few more seconds are something of fiction. Only in fairytales and on the pages of children’s books does one more moment really exist.

So instead, I’ll write for you these words that you may never hear but I’ll try. I’ll fight bravely with my own mind in the battle to press send; because I need you to know, I have to tell you because some things cannot be left unsaid.

You made me feel at home within myself, at a time when I felt so far from any light, a time I had been wandering alone down the dark streets of my own thoughts and for that I will be forever grateful.
Zywa May 2020
The word has been indestructibly
poured, swept and guarded
it has leveled pimples and polyps
of boulders and trees
straightened noses and washed ears

with rules and shame
because no one should get lost
there is no more room for it
in the Street of the People

for the Book of Changes
teaches that
nothing can be done
in case of dissension

The word has become sugary-sweet
daily a pill against boredom, it has become
supervision and volcanic concrete
one sauce for goose and gander
it lives among us

To the south the gardens are empty
to the north the Butterfly People
and Tibet are museums with explanations
in the colours of the new era

because the word is for everyone
and except for those close to you
everyone is everyone to everyone
Everyone is everyone
Yijing = Book of Changes

Since 1500, Europe imported sugar from India to make medicine pills

Piripkúra = People of the butterflies

Collection “PumicePieces"
Douglas Balmain May 2020
Her rib cage splayed
and knees felled away
from each other,
she lay as a refuge,
an invitation:

Climb in, stretch my skin
over yours—
it's warm and dark inside,
you need not come out
until you are ready.
Sheila Greene May 2020
Anchor

Lifes a restless sea
Waves forever rolling
Tossing against shores
Storms **** Sunshine
Birth and death

Bareboat at sea
Weathering its moods
Tossed and withered
Exhausted endless battles
Losing never winning

The boat leaks through time
Land never blooms
Sea begins laughing
For victories sure to win
Hopeless begins drowning

Unexpectedly Sunshine breaks clouds
Horizons mirage
Dare hope
Drifts through sea
Hope springing life

No boat, ship in calm sea floats
Sunlight surrounded
Warm, happy being
Embracing pull, gravity
Shining Love, compassion

My anchor forever becomes
Keeps the sea calm, at bay
Happiness at last
Victories won, safety waits
Heart and souls have joined
Rainbows anchor.


© sd greene  5/30/17
We all need an anchor in the storms of life.
William Boateng May 2020
These times are unprecedented,
Scary things happening all around us,
Death news here and there,
The economy has turned on its head,
Our heroes are leaving us for somewhere we have no knowledge of,
Who do we go to and how do we stop this!
The gods have failed us is what it seems,
But no answer pleases the masses.
One thing I know can save us now,
Something our fighters even adhere to,
Washing our hands frequently with soap and water,
Putting on our nose mask,
Avoiding handshakes,
Avoid moving about aimlessly,
Drinking warm water often.
Always put yourself first in every situation,
That is the only way to save your self and your close ones.
Let's save the world together
Steve Page Apr 2020
If I
when I'm shouting
when I'm shouting in the tin-roof rain
against the stadium crowd
If I
when in the white shadow of her pain
bone marrow and head to toe
If I
fail to make myself heard
then I only have myself to blame

- I'm practiced enough
in finding a way through
through careful positioning
through forceful attention grabbing
with her head in both hands
taking her head to mine
and catching her eyes
brow to brow and toe to toe
until she knows I'm there
and that she can come back to us here
where the quiet is.
Sensory overload in children is crippling.  This was kicked off by a reading of https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46483/danse-russe .  But I went in a different direction.
I know I'm home and I'm not alone
sick inside cuz the wounds at the bone my friend
such a strange feeling getting to me
I contradict every thought that I have

A special friend blending words in my head
Secret to the trend is make everything feel threatening
Driving through the fog with my brights on
As the lights pass by I get mystified

I'm too big for the room I'm in
Am I wrong or maybe it's actually my skin
I'm going to rip apart this reality
and peel back the shades that have came to cover me

Staring out like I'm in a cell
In and out like a raging swell
I can say that I'm happy with the ones I love
Though I'm scared to go outside and lose comfort in the shelter
%S
Tea Apr 2020
38:
Sounds become unclear...
And I don't know what I hear...
My vision becomes blurred as I fall...
I don't even feel how I hit a wall...
The world goes black and I'm out...
I try so hard to shout...
But nothing of me wants to move or listen to my commands...
After an unknown amount of time, I wake up and look at my hands...
I hold a book I've never seen before...
Then, I hear the sound of a creaking door...
I look around me to find that I'm not where I fell...
It's not a cage and not a room, but a cell...
But, strangely, I find no door and no entrance of any kind...
A table, a chair, is all I find...
A blanket over me, so I'm not cold...
My attention returns to the book I still hold...
Its title reads "Journal 1."
I open it and I start reading till I'm done...
Short, thin, and small...
I quickly read it all...
A boy that lost the things he cared about...
How he tried but got thrown out...
Lonely and cold, he was left to die...
But he stood up once more to try...
He was looked down upon and laughed at...
But he refused to give up, no matter what...
He successfully became rich and wealthy...
He no longer belonged under the poor and filthy...
The story ends where he saves a girl from being attacked and killed...
People wanted her tongue to be stilled...
But he took her away to a safe place...
So the other don't have any clue or trace...
I turn the last page to find a key...
A note tied to it addressed to me...
"Dear Rain. Sorry for taking you away without warning."
"Please ask if you need anything."
"The latch is under the chair."
"Please watch out and take care."
I climb off and look under the chair...
And I find the latch there...
I open it with the key...
But underneath there is only darkness to see...
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