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#crossing
within the storm a heart of purpose beats as surely as it beats in the calm of a clear blue sea.
0
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 9:29 AM UTC
purpose
They walked us down through cottonwoods the leaves rattled like small bones. Mud ****** at our boots. The river smelled of salmon blood and wet iron. “This is your turn,” they said. “Your turn to weave.” They sat us along the bank knees in the cold silt while the elders pulled story from their mouths hand over hand silver filament bright as fish scales in lantern light. I understood. Grandmother lived in those branches. You could feel her listening. The threads changed color as they spoke. Storm-dark pewter like the river before rain. Then thin as spider silk when someone whispered a name too sacred to hold long in daylight. “Now you.” I shut my eyes hard mosquitoes whining near my ears and prayed to whatever lived in water the quiet old saints who ride the backs of salmon. Then suddenly a net of words shivered into my hands. Wet rope smell. Knots tight as knuckles. Moonlight caught in every strand. “This one is yours,” they told me. “Now cast it.” So I stood there a skinny girl in borrowed boots and threw that net into the black breathing river. Again. Again. Months went by like that. Fingers raw from knotting stories. Rope burns in my palms. The net coming back empty silver dulling toward gray like old jewelry buried in river sand. Years passed. The river widened. I forgot the girl on the bank. Then one night my line ****** hard in the dark. rope heavy with distance and saw it threading through my own mesh gold. Not a glimmer not a trick of light. Your net had crossed mine somewhere far out where the current runs thick with shadow. Gold through silver. Silver through gold. The ropes crossing so often it became impossible to see where one ended. Some nights the river carried a sweetness ferment rising from the reeds thick enough to make the lantern flames dance. Some nights the current snapped and lunged dragging the mesh sideways until the rope burned my palms raw again Still the nets tangled deeper dragging strange glitter from the dark water stories bright as coins others sharp as broken glass. From the shore if grandmother had been watching she would only nod and keep weaving.
0
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
Gold Through Silver
They walked us down through cottonwoods the leaves rattled like small bones. Mud ****** at our boots. The river smelled of salmon blood and wet iron. “This is your turn,” they said. “Your turn to weave.” They sat us along the bank knees in the cold silt while the elders pulled story from their mouths hand over hand silver filament bright as fish scales in lantern light. I understood. Grandmother lived in those branches. You could feel her listening. The threads changed color as they spoke. Storm-dark pewter like the river before rain. Then thin as spider silk when someone whispered a name too sacred to hold long in daylight. “Now you.” I shut my eyes hard mosquitoes whining near my ears and prayed to whatever lived in water the quiet old saints who ride the backs of salmon. Then suddenly a net of words shivered into my hands. Wet rope smell. Knots tight as knuckles. Moonlight caught in every strand. “This one is yours,” they told me. “Now cast it.” So I stood there a skinny girl in borrowed boots and threw that net into the black breathing river. Again. Again. Months went by like that. Fingers raw from knotting stories. Rope burns in my palms. The net coming back empty silver dulling toward gray like old jewelry buried in river sand. Years passed. The river widened. I forgot the girl on the bank. Then one night my line ****** hard in the dark. rope heavy with distance and saw it threading through my own mesh gold. Not a glimmer not a trick of light. Your net had crossed mine somewhere far out where the current runs thick with shadow. Gold through silver. Silver through gold. The ropes crossing so often it became impossible to see where one ended. Some nights the river carried a sweetness ferment rising from the reeds thick enough to make the lantern flames dance. Some nights the current snapped and lunged dragging the mesh sideways until the rope burned my palms raw again Still the nets tangled deeper dragging strange glitter from the dark water stories bright as coins others sharp as broken glass. From the shore if grandmother had been watching she would only nod and keep weaving.
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I saw you as a PASSERSBY and It kinda made me LAUGH, I tend to see you ALL THE TIME, as we are CROSSING PATHS, I do not know your WHEREABOUTS, or to WHERE is your LOCATION, All I know is that you must LIVE NEAR, as you TRAVEL to your DESTINATION. You may be on your way to WORK, Then again, maybe I'M WRONG, My MIND is STEADY WONDERING as I CONTINUE to MOVE RIGHT ALONG, I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about you, as we CONTINUE to TRAVEL DEAR FRIEND, but ONE THING I AM MOST CERTAIN OF IS: WE WILL BE CROSSING PATHS AGAIN!!!! SO, FAREWELL AND UNTIL THEN!!!! B.R. Date: 5/10/2024
0
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 8:08 PM UTC
Crossing Paths
i stand at the pedestrian crossing white parallel lines aged by rubber i wait for another person and i cross my brain goes white with parallel lines i stop in the middle of the street for a second sometimes i wish a car would take me then sometimes i wish a truck would knock me out is it worth the trauma of gradeschoolers? is it worth the clean up of city hall? and how would they portray me? a suicidal maniac who gets people in prison? or merely an idiot with nothing better to do other than cause chaos? scene of the crime outlined in white chalk against white parallel lines brain matter splattered on an SUV's windshield funny they can't find my eyes.
0
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 8:13 AM UTC
white parallel lines
Saw the bean pole and its roots arguing outdoor with two oppressors bean pole treated unfavourably its on foreign soil doused in free milk but reminded its just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias Saw the bean pole housed in nursery and greenhouse to propagate now rooted anew its given nutrients but it must do as ordered for no matter what its just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias Saw bean pole growing tendrils leaves unfold green to catch sunshine but now a puppet amongst others who bend and shape at will bean pole see that plant next to you its taking your nutrients away go block its sun do as we say or else just remember you're just another crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias Bean pole will grow and bear fruits on foreign soil there's milk and honey but for as long as the sun shines the chains and barbs will hold bean pole is just a stick carrying tendrils to grow the beans eaten by those of the land who to them will always be just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias
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Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 7:11 AM UTC
The Bean stalk from the dinghy....
He crossed the line Entering my life He ignored my resistance signs Avoiding all my female land mines There were no explosions There was no protection He crossed the line Desecrating my sacred shrine
0
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 4:06 AM UTC
Crossing Lines
"How are you doing?" those words pierced through my coat bypassing the buttons that I didn't notice were open until he spoke them How I froze words intended to warm into a pointed intrusion meant to warn me of my icy exterior It jabbed at my heart like icicles pressed into the wound that throbbed and pulsed He maintained eye contact when he asked and my eyes were wide with weariness I couldn't truly hide but I could disguise "I'm doing well and you?" I replied to the man holding a stop-sign my voice pleasant like springtime when the wind rustled green-leafed trees during the early sunrise and the morning doves sang a sweet melody covering up my shivering heart "I'm doing good," he said and nodded his head in response to my quiet 'thank you' he waited until I crossed the small street eyes at my back, tracking my slow, steady steps and when I got to the other side I paused for my crossing guard said one more thing "I hope you have a good day!" and I said with a smile too bright, "You too," and went on my way marching through the bright, winter day hoping that this road would just take me away Just take me away
0
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC
The Crossing Guard
I think about you a lot. You’re always on my mind. It’s honestly troubling sometimes, how much you cross through my mind. Never checking both ways, left, right, left. Never considering how I would feel. You don't tread lightly when exploring my undiscovered corners and thoughts. But that’s okay, I love you too much to blame you. It’s unhealthy, maybe, maybe not, I know that I want you. I need you. but I don't love you. Please just kiss me one time, I’ve been dying to know you. Just kiss me once more, I've been dying to know if this is real life. A whirlwind of thoughts sweeps through, taking houses and trees right out the ground Crashing, flashing, with a bang and a spark, it’s like magic The flood of your eyes has fully taken over And you’re the only thing on my mind.
0
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 11:23 AM UTC
I think
When crossing roads look. Look left, look right. When kissing your lover, don't look. Stay blind.
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Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 3:03 AM UTC
When crossing roads
I thought I understood distance When I learned at school it is defined as “The amount of space between two points.” I learned distance can be measured in various units As steps, kilometres and miles or even intervals of time. I thought I understood distance When I counted 2362 steps walking to school And noticed my dad’s car meter increasing two miles In three minutes driving me back home. But my understanding had changed when I started measuring longer distances. And attempting to cross them. I travelled a distance measured in kilometres and hours to see him. Such distances can be easily crossed. Either I took the next train, or drove my car Distance as an amount of space was two thousand kilometres And distance as an amount of time was only a few hours. I thought I understood distance, But never the amount of space between two specific points; My lips and his lips. I travelled a distance measured in bottles of wine and years to kiss him. Such distances can’t be easily crossed. I could walk miles of skin And distance as an amount of space between us Could extend tiresome. But such distances aren’t necessarily a barrier. I have crossed all the oceans we created I counted all the bodies And I have indulged in his lips. It took me two bottles of wine and twenty years To actually understand distance But my understanding is obsolete For him and I , Are still two distant entities.
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
Distance as an infinite quantity
Look at everything I've done There is no forgiving this Even still, all I did was run I ran from it all I'm gone I departed to a new place Where no one could know This dreaded face I spent my time on the train Afraid Time has come to Fall The color red was all around Each leaf is a memory hiding Things that shouldn't be found The wait comes to an end Where I will take The first step Towards a new life And right away "Welcome to our town!" "There's no need to frown!" "Come on, let's be friends!" Rushed by all the villagers "Hey, I'll show you around." The young miss Said to me. So then she went off, guiding me. This was the next step In this life No Is this forgiveness? The world has given me a Second chance This is a new life A new Me I'll turn over a new leaf I can make the change Past, present, future Past doesn't matter And we live in the present Fighting for our future "Hey, miss, Let's strive forward in this town... Together." This is now my town Our town Something far greater Than even destiny.
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Crossing of Life
You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me Us You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Me You Goodbye Me
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Crossing paths (Goodbye)
A strange creature stands guard. His dark hood conceals a face beneath, no features twitch only death can speak. A thin bone finger unfolds from sleeves of black pointing with a quiver towards the crossing, calling as he laughs. Bent rotten wood and hanging limbs create a canopy of haunting trim My extremities shake violent, fear suffocates the mind A voice ever so silent urges me across the line
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Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
The Crossing
Your tongue speaks The language of my lips Fluently
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Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 4:38 AM UTC
Bridge
Crossing the road When I was eight years old, I was sure that cars would stop At the little girl in red. From the other side, The stretch seems like forever; Running fast from something, Or someone I wasn't sure of. Mom would scold, Friends would shout cold; Warm gustling winds, Passing swiftly was home. Crossing the road, Now I'm twice as old, I'm sure the car didn't miss me, Because I missed it instead.
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Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 7:49 AM UTC
Pedestrian Lines
To cross bridges, let's have faith, In the ultimate survival of the human race, Why demonise migrants this way? We're humans, just the same, Even terrorists who use their creed As a mask for greedy power, indeed, If we spread brotherhood far and wide, We could cross bridges that divide......
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Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
CROSSING BRIDGES.....
As a sensible, As a logical, And a well informed fellow I asked that when you meet the Devil Where do you draw the line? Quick wit, to leave me assured You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line Persistent and fiendish, as Devils are He barreled through the line, with evil in his eye Thankful to have a friend, I asked, is this enough? Uneasiness overcame me when you said it was okay. Quick wit, to leave me assured You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line But he truly was hell, this ****** Devil Carelessly he pushed right through, past the line again. Worried, I asked, well surely we're in danger? Of course not, he replied, siding with Devil and his plan Quick wit, to leave me assured You affirmed, my friend, I'll never cross this line With no limit, his forked tongue just laughed Storming through again, no one in his way Terrified, I pleaded, this nonsense had to stop My friend, now foe, said this is the only way How foolish I must be to, To ever believe a line that couldn't be crossed. And to think you'd stand by me.
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
Friend to Foe
Short dark hair under a dogeared baseball cap tipped my way a perfect smile on your face crisp  white pocketed T-shirt dark blue Levi jeans   worn all-weather Chippewa boots rugged, young and handsome holding a stop sign for children best crossing guard ever. Cherie Nolan  © 2016
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Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
"Best Crossing Guard Ever"