I'm always the lesson,
never the praise.
Told to be better
in quiet ways.

The words aren't cruel,
but they still land rough-
measured and weighed,
never enough.

It's in the looks
the way they compare,
like I'm just less
for even being there.

I carry the blame
for things I don't do,
swallow the doubt
until it feels true.

They don't see the cracks,
the ones they made-
all for the sake
of keeping one name safe.

I shouldn't have to earn
what should be mine-
a place, a voice,
a moment in time.

But I keep the peace,
stay small, stay still,
hoping they'll notice
I'm breaking at will.

A faded feather shed upon the ground
trod underfoot,
soiled and bent,
Is still a feather

Though it no longer shines with colors bold,
no longer soars,
caressing the clouds
though it lays there
abandoned
in the dirt,
dreaming of sky

A still feather is a feather still
bent and broken
a feather still
Flightless and forgotten
a feather still

I am a feather


© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I was weighed down pound by pound
and things were looking grim.
My arms flailing; began to tire
and my mouth was tasting salt,
just days ago I warmed myself by fire
and by lying on the asphalt.

Shadow stalks and kicking rocks;
irrelevant if your shoes are tied.
Checking locks and kicking rocks
get carried away by the tide.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I could view the sandy ground,
though the image was quite dim.
My head; just barely above the water
and desperately I was gasping for air,
and I could swear it was getting hotter
but the temperature was actually fair.

I’ve got currents and tides
within my mind.
And when I finally rip out my insides;
more water and waves you’ll find.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
While being tossed and pushed around
I discovered I had every limb.
I could see a shoreline in the distance
it’s beaches with perfect white sand.
It seemed within an instance
I started treading steadily with each hand.

Let me make my own mistakes,
and let me learn from them.
As ice freezes over lakes,
I will harden like a gem.
.
I don't regret leaving my heart out
to get scorched, crack in the cold;
a lesson needed to sow doubt,
to make caution take a hold.
.
I've learned, I've grown
through the pains;
I am now more my own,
experience in my veins.
.
And now I don't even feel the break:
like a computer gone offline;
a reboot needed just to make
this new update truly mine.
.
I will survive, I always do -
my shipwrecks an eternal theme -
and I'll re-surface, start anew,
with new stitching along the seam.
.

Everyday is an uphill *****
—a vertical some days
—always picking up the slack;
picking up the pace.
Desperate, delusional,
acts of disgrace,
but how do you ask for forgiveness
with a struggling face?

I wish it were easier
living, that is;
I force life to be easier;
surviving, it is.

How do you tell people
you're suffocating,
when the air on the *****
is dissipating?

Every miniscule molecule
I make mine
Meanders from,
Mightily moving mountains,
To meekly maintaining mounds.
From harmlessly heeding horizons,
To heroically holding off hounds.

my emotions dread for peace
this space is so tight
I seem lifeless

why prickly numb and burning
are my toes writing a story
spare me a niddle to escape

For my fears are dead
Today I question life
Now I got my answer

Live today
Live today
Live today

(c) Olu Daniels -KUVAR