I wanted to walk out,
I want to walk away

I mean it,
I meant it

Now,

I saw the reflection
Of why I built,
And try to build my walls,
My armor,
My vanguard,
Myself... again

Teach me to
swim
in the
sound-waves
of your voice.

Your hands fit
perfectly into my
skinny spaces
as if the
primary-school outline
of your palm
was drawn
just for me.

They tried to bury us my dear
But they didn't realize that we were seeds

Mabel is breathing....
    no one ever visits.
She has tended flowers and done laundry all
    life for others.
No one needs her.
    She has a bad knee and
Neuropathy , subsists now on pain medication and sugars.
    No one calls her.
She envisions one day getting flowers.
    Or hearing again from that gentleman, who
twenty years ago smiled.
    Or her children or grand young ens';
but no one writes her one letter.
     In the cold she wears all those sweaters she knitted.
So no  people remember her, I will!
    I visit and bring the flowers I grew specially
for her,
    the prettiest yellow roses,
while she lives!

I am enough**



…



aren't I?