There is a light in you that moves like the sun across mountains,
warm and certain,
and I am endlessly in awe of the way you give yourself to everything you love,
how you keep showing up,
even when no one sees the weight it costs you to do so.

I see the heaviness that settles in your shoulders,
the way your eyes grow tired long before the night comes,
how your hands keep building even when they ache.
I see the things you do not speak,
the shadows you keep close,
and I wish you could see yourself the way I do.

I will hold the pieces until you are ready,
be the stillness you can rest inside,
walk beside you through the heat of the day and the cold of the night,
be the arms that wait for you
and the voice that quietly calls you home.

Because it is worth it to watch the smile reach your eyes,
to hear the laugh that shakes the dust from your heart,
to see you finally set down your burdens
and let the world be gentle with you.

I write—
neither for name
nor for fame,

but to remain sane,
for I fear
I may go insane.

Too much hurt,
endless pain—
the heart can
only hold so much.

Words are my gateway
to release what I
hold inside.

Another star wiped out

from the horizon,

leaving behind

a permanent void.

The cruel hands of death

took you away from us

leaving us in shock

and with teary eyes.

You will not sing again,

you will not speak again—

your voice has gone silent now.

But we will keep

singing your songs.

Your heartfelt songs

will now become

melodious memories.

You will live on

through your songs.

In our memories,

you will live on.

The world is the same

for you and for me—

What we see

depends on

where we stand.

Tears fall silently,

remembering the departed,

sadness surrounds me.

A girl child
when born
to a family

is

either
seen as

a

burden to be
disposed of

or

too precious a treasure
kept hidden for protection

but

not once considered
as a human being.

Flowers bloom

only for a while,

teaching us

to value life.

They bloom

to remind us

to smile,

when we forget.

rolling down his cheeks. He wipes
me off with the back of his hand. But I
stand in peaks like whipped cream
inside of his glands. I'm the spicey taco

he wolfed down. And I'll hang around burning
him late at night when my sauce still lingers
but is out of sight. And just like the snot
flying out of his sneeze I'll dance pirouettes

in the tang of a breeze. I’m the needles
and pins when he cannot feel his toes. I’m
the itch that he scratches inside of his
clothes. And he thinks that he’ll pass me

out the other end like gas that escapes him
in the wind. But I'm the scab that covers him
when he's skinned his knees. Stuck to him like a
dog with fleas. There’s no getting rid of me – no release!

SNOW FALLS

She wakes to a morning
with no reason for living

cries in the mirror
to be forgiven.

Puts on her make-up
takes off her clothes

sits there & bleeds
until she can’t feel

the blood in her veins
...runs cold.

The razorblade
bleeds...bleeds.

The cat cries
to be fed.

The batteries in her Walkman
go dead.

The Rachmaninov stops.

A letter she will never read
drops on the Welcome mat.

A mobile rings & rings &...stops.

A member of a minor political party
looking for her vote

rings the doorbell twice
slips on the ice    &   ruins his coat.

Curses.

A man laughs at another man’s joke.
It’s a big laugh...he’s a big bloke.

Laughter invades the square.

There’s a chill in the air.

A friend calls for her
(to go on a blind date)  

...she doesn’t hear.

Snow...
...snow...
...snow falls.