Stuck on blackened spikes
and under stormy seas.
“Let’s go for a hike,”
my wife said to me.

Her sliver of sunlight
breaks through my fog,
a sparkling invite
to go for a little jog.

On a bed of autumn leaves
and crisp wisps of dew
the trees us receive
while I from black withdrew.

Nearly five years ago, I made the difficult choice to leave a toxic and abusive marriage, a decision that came after realizing, through therapy, that the relationship had never truly served me. For years, I had cared for someone unable to care for themselves, losing parts of myself in the process. This choice took its toll; mentally, physically, and financially; but it was necessary.

I remember telling myself, “I don’t want to be here in five years, stuck in misery and pain.” Now, as those five years draw to a close, I stand as proof of my promise to prioritize happiness; not just for my sake, but for my daughter, who means more to me than life itself. Despite enduring the trials of losing an eye, battling shingles, and surviving two brain aneurysms, I have emerged stronger, healthier, and more grounded than ever before. My resilience is rooted in a deep determination for growth, and in the boundless strength my daughter gives me. She is my constant source of inspiration, my reminder of life’s quiet wonders. Even though she is with me 60% of the time, her presence fills my world completely, showing me; through her compassion, empathy, and curiosity; how to embrace the beauty in every moment we share.

There was a time when she was taken from me while I worked relentlessly to create a stable life for her. I sacrificed time and sleep, fought through my darkest hours, all with one aim: to build a future in which she could thrive. Each sacrifice, each sleepless night, was worth it to hold her close once again.

From the day she was born, I vowed to give her my best, to live up to my full potential as both her father and her friend. And I continue to fulfill that vow every day, cherishing every moment we spend together, knowing that our time is the most valuable thing I have. I take pride in watching her grow into a wonderfully creative soul, a lover of animals, nature, and crafting. She brings so much light into my life, and it’s because of who she is that this journey as a single parent has felt lighter. She has made it easier; not through words, but through the way she simply exists, with a joyful spirit and quiet wisdom that has guided me as much as I have guided her.

There’s an unspoken beauty in how we parent each other, even in moments when we’re not aware of it. She has taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of seeing the world with wonder. Together, we have made homes in new places, and each time, she has helped turn those spaces into sanctuaries, filled with love, laughter, and creativity. No matter where life takes us, I know that home will always be where we are together.

Being a single father has been the greatest gift of my life. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth every challenge. Together, we’ve weathered the storms of separation and divorce, always finding our way back to each other, stronger. As I continue to watch her grow, I find myself in awe of the person she’s becoming. And I will be here, by her side, in every step of her journey, just as she has unknowingly been there for me on mine.

—

Five years ago, I chose the way,
To leave the dark and find the day.
Through struggles deep and through strain,
I found my strength, and peace from pain.

In those many years, nothing felt quite right,
And so I left behind the sleepless nights.
Through deep darkness and trials long,
I found my strength, where I belong.

Her laughter lifts, her spirit shows,
In every moment, love still grows.
Her eyes reflect the world so true,
In her, I see all that we do.

We craft, we build, and shape our days,
In nature’s hands, where beauty stays.
She teaches me, though unaware,
In every smile, in every care.

Together, bound by love so tight,
We’ve turned our challenges to light.
In her, I find my greatest part;
My daughter, friend, my guiding heart.

— Sincerely, Boris

People dream of being a scientist
Meanwhile, I wish to be a therapist,
Not for the foolish mortals
But for the myriad-glittering stars;

Thousands of years apart
They're lonely, are they not?
I'd like to listen to their flares,
Be a being that for them cares,
And find a cure for their despairs.

Isn't that absurd?
A longing that this life couldn't approve.

Through twisted bars of dark wrought iron
I see the shining golden home.
There once I’d been in my personal Zion
from which I’d freely roam.

But now I note I’ve lost the key
to this imposing gate:
I stand outside, trying hard to see
what caused this change of fate.

When and why did I turn my back
on this inner keep of peace?
How to drop the sackcloth black
and find a new release?

Now I must pull me up
and scale these castle walls
that I myself had built
before I took this fall.

For my sake and for those I love
it’s time to find my way
back to where sounds of cooing doves
becalmed me, come what may.

An ice floe made of gathered up snow
that fell over thousands of years:
The snow’s source water had achingly grown
from billions of sweat drops and tears

But now the floe turns and starts to flow
in rivers of thawed out heart-ice
and emotions once caged start to angrily glow —
An avalanche loosed from its vice

The glacier crashes, a tectonic shift
as mountains of blue-white burst the dam:
The inland is transformed by dramatic drift —
Who will find new order in the break of the jam

trapped words that I cannot  
scrape from my mouth  
spread like poison.  
radiating tendrils  
running under skin.  

I stab the pen into my arm,  
draw out the black bile  
coursing my veins  

and use it for ink.  
pouring my pollution onto the page,  
scribbling the bleak and vicious  
cogitations  
the nefarious abstractions  
that dig into the hushed  
corners of my soul.  

I hope to drain myself-  
enough to return colour  
to my veins,  
bleed red once more;  
taste joy and love  
on my palette  
in place of ash,  
and the ruthless regret  
that clings to my tongue.  

I am fading,  
withering like a husk.  
I fear I will run out of ink
and find nothing red left

I’m taking control, making changes.
Some for the worst, others for the best.
I don’t like to evade or retreat.
My secrets are inconsequential.
I’m taking things into my own hands
- I kissed my therapist. On the lips.
Life is but a game of ‘Smash or pass’
and I hate waiting for ice cream.
“I like the way you move,” he said, “I like your skin.”
“It’s what people notice first” I admitted, “want to see it?”
Or maybe I dreamed that - I dream about him, sometimes. shrug
I think the helpless, astringent, professional intimacy fires me.
I want him to ask me about my jerkwater *** life, he has a concomitant
passport, but he never does. Isn’t that important - what about Freud?
What do you think you inherited from your parents? He asked.
“What a question!” I observed, “You mean genetically?”
“Come on,” he prompted, and I thought for a long minute.
“I have my mother’s impatience, her drive to succeed
and her thick blonde hair that seems to dry instantly.”
He nodded, indicating he liked where I was going.
“I have my father’s eyes, his flashing temper and flat chest.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he wanted me to stay serious.
“Then there’s my Stepfather (Step), he taught me humor,
patience and self-control - oh, and how to drive.”
He ****** on his pencil eraser and nodded.
He always blurs the line between performance and approval.
.
.
Songs for this:
Secrets (Your Fire) by Magdalena Bay
The Spot by Your Smith