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4d · 118
Spirit Boy
All is quiet and
All is still
And the thick curvature of these hills
Rolls on against a starlit November night.

Spirit boy
Draw me in
Hands gentle as the midnight wind
Caress the contours of my chest
Like earth against my skin

Or flames that lick
And bend.

You are born where mountains begin
And your soul is both stone and sky
And quiet laughter ringing through the black galaxies
Of your eyes.

Spirit boy
I can feel
Your heart is beating


And I am pressed against your wildness like a desperate tide

And I will spread and rise and crest and break
Against your hardened precipices like the raging river
Against the rocks.

And when
From the highest perch above the valley
And the untamed horses run

I will grip these sheets and scream

And lose my breath
When you press into me,
Like a heavy mallet
On the sacred drum.
I have known you long and not at all, wild one.
Nov 6 · 316
Razor Edged Hands
CarolineSD Nov 6
Now the winter reaches in with
Razor edged hands,
Clasps the browning leaves
And yanks the last remnants of
Summer down
To the chilling ground
And I am like a forgotten August sunset
Dripping tears of crimson and gold
Along the gray horizon
And the earth is shifting slow,
Turning away

From a love that could have been

If there ever was an eternal summer
As gardens set deep within
The Misty Mountains
A certain holiness repressed
Beneath the depths of impenetrable glacial walls.

I have called for your voice across the frigid tundra
But it is as lost
As it ever was.

The songbirds cry

And oh, how I have known them long
A little girl
Reaching for their hearts behind the ephemeral whispers
Of the song

Winter’s fog descends like burial cloth  
And they are gone.
Nov 6 · 122
Them Damn Beasts
CarolineSD Nov 6
Them **** beasts
Hunt our cattle
Picking out the weak.
Go get your rifle, son.
Go fetch your boots.
Those *******
Look best skinned
And ******
Across the bed
Of this old truck.

I nod along with them.
I plod along with them to get the guns;
Isn't this necessary,
After all?

But inside my soul
I feel a dark night spreading
No, not sinister
But sweet.
The stars above like scattered drifts
Of snow spilled in the wind and crunching under
Loping feet.

And I am standing on a narrow ridge
And listening.
Hidden like some ephemeral thing,
Like sweetgrass burning in the wind;

And I can feel them rising.
I can hear them crying,
A ghostly sobbing.
Falling on my knees
I call them.

To the draw they run!
Like so many mothers clutch their young
And all the warriors toss their guns
And still the cavalry descends,

Across the creek and trailing blood, she runs.
Singing her howling song, she runs.
Howling her death song, she runs.  

And in one last act of desperation falls.

I see them drag her carcass up the draw.

And in the truck, they’re laughing,
Humming, slapping knees, and spitting,
Like some celebratory release.  

In my head, a single phrase:
Them **** beasts.
Bringing this one back How we slaughter beautiful things for our own security.
Sep 24 · 306
CarolineSD Sep 24
With such cold rigidity some are able to carefully build these walls
And I try to imitate the craft,
But alas, my heart is far too soft.

When darkness falls, gently, across these open plains of
Windswept grass
It takes nothing but a single breath to
Lay my spirit bare,
Fingers of the starlit night reaching into the wild
Tangles of my hair.

And how easily I let these barriers
Fall all the way

All the weight I’ve carried upon my shoulders dropped,
Just like that,
Just like a soft and silken gown
Strewn across the cooling evening ground.

And how I also crumble and fold,
How these painted walls
They do not hold

Because I am not afraid of love
And I beg the floodwaters to roll like raging
Oceans whipped by cyclonic storms
And I bend into the breaking of the stones
And my heart is screaming
Let them fall!

No, I do not try to cage this eternal seeking of my soul, so

Let them fall

Let them fall

I will always turn towards the sunlit warmth of love,
Arms reaching forever out
Though it may be better to arm these walls,

I will always let them fall.

I live breathless and free in the breaking.
That's what love feels like
Aug 5 · 1.3k
Stardust Core
CarolineSD Aug 5
Though she once,
At the moment of her birth,
Shone with immeasurable light, 
Unadulterated, unremitting, unashamed
Breaking the barriers of time and space
Wide-eyed emerging into that very first day
Unwrapping the shadowed arms of the other side

Though she proclaimed
I am here!
Like the brightest star,
Speaking with her spirit alone

Having not yet lost
The language of God

Though she was at that moment
Lifted into her place
Embraced by vast, light-laden arcs
Cast just right
A speck of hope within the wide
Galaxy of life

Though she emerged bright
And sure,

She fell

She plunged through a darkness that stole it all
Light years of cold
Voices that battered the
Stardust core
Of her soul

Until one day
At the edge of some endless abyss
She turned and tried to find her own star amongst the farthest
Reaches of the night sky,
Eyes seeking in the black,
And at last perceived the faintest glow,
A tiny spark from so many, many years ago,
A remnant of a little girl she once knew.

But the pain is just too far
And the cruel wind slaps at her reaching arms
And so she just steps back and lets herself fall

Away from the light.

Away from it all.
For my mom, for me, for all. How the darkness can carry us so far. Away. I still believe we were born of light, once.
CarolineSD Jul 26
I cannot ever truly love but
Fail. I call out now to silent graves.
Prayers cut rivers down my face and
I ask them to rise, rise, rise,
Spread fragile wings and fly!
Lift, like vibrant monarchs against the sky,
But the stars are a deaf glory
Across a moonless night
That cannot speak,
And these tears they only fall,
Dropping heavy and useless to the floor.

I am bleeding from the very tributaries of my soul,

Cry these words out into the stillness of the room,

And I thought you might hear.

I hold your picture to the beating of my heart
But there is only silence
And the endless, imperceptible wall.

You are just too far, too far, too far.

I am an utter failure;
Calling out to ghosts who were
Never there at all.
Jul 13 · 571
CarolineSD Jul 13
I let this wilderness excavate my soul
Hard edged rain thrown from a raging sky
Cuts quick across the exposed contours of my neck
Hair gathered and whipped across my eyes
And I will kneel in this dirt and beg to
Be stripped down to the throbbing core
Of what it is that
We really are.

A crack of mountain thunder
Vibrates along my spine
And the wind even bends the tallest bodies of the pines
Who reach their trembling arms high
Above the cliffs
And I am still clutching at the darkened sand at the edges of this
Storm-whipped lake
Heart beating wildly, half-afraid
Of the violent power of this wild space.

But here, finally, in ecstasy,
Like one released,
I find that I am face-to-face
With the missing pieces of my soul
Cut off in jagged edges
From the day that I was born,
And it is only in the presence of haunted,
Exposed wilds
Sometimes high in these cliffs,

And sometimes in someone’s eyes,

That I find myself again.

And so, like one who is often blind,
I extend my hands out into the darkness
Fingertips aching to find
Another spirit that is formed of mountain storms and
Rages wild.
Is it a blessing or a curse to always feel the rushing
of love beneath it all?

"There's a craving that will never come to pass
There's a hunger that will never cease to last
There's an aching that lies deep within my soul
For the promise that someday I could be whole."
Jun 13 · 646
CarolineSD Jun 13
There is such thing as a healing round.
I won’t explain in detail as
A person does not speak of
Sacred things,
As if to assign form to what is
Better left
Shifting through the wind
Like the breath of God.

Better left to those whose
Ancestors passed down the songs
That shall not be sung in winter.

But I will speak of the
Splitting of my skin
At a feather’s edge
Bone whistle call,
Walls dissolved
And all the grief came pouring out.

Bent over, arms clutched across my Chest, sobbing now,
Tears wet the earth.

I finally allow in
The presence of my mother’s death

And a broader mourning
That I cannot define.

There is such thing as a healing round.

I am walking now
Footsteps quiet on the cathedral floor,
Faces in stained glass
Watching from lofty spires of marble and slick, gray stone.
Do their eyes follow my small, hesistant form?

I do not frequent churches and prefer to come alone

To enter a silence
In which all of the suffering
That this world
Has ever borne
Hangs heavy
Suspended in the resonance of
Great, imposing halls,
Vast oceans of sorrow, and here too,
Something that carries and lifts;

Perhaps, the love of God.

Heal us and forgive us
In our blindness
Take my hand and show me,
Again, the sunlit road
Where we can be found.

There is such thing as holy ground.

The water knows
Rushing between the rocks,
Between the wild, greening cliffs
Where gently a little Robin flits
And perches on the tangled brush
Beside the shore.

You belong here, she sings,
You belong
You belong

And there is such thing as holy ground

Always within it beauty
And a great sadness looming

And how is it that so few can trace the outlines of its form
Beneath the skin,
But you can
You can
You can?
Jun 8 · 469
Blue Lake
CarolineSD Jun 8
By the shores of an alpine lake
Newly thawed
Sun bright and full of an early summer’s
I watch the goslings waddle
To the lapping edge of the water.

Their mother eyes me, but
Notes that I am
Not a threat.

And I am not a threat.

I tell her softly that she should pass
And I will not throw rocks
Or chase her off
Like so many do
As if we have some greater claim to this
Blue lake
And the evergreen forests
That surround it
Than all of the wild things that quietly adjust their days,
Trace a slightly wider arc,
Around the cacophonous noise we make,

Before slipping quickly up, up and away
Into the thickness of a wilderness
Rife with ponderosa pines
And a crisp silence
Broken only by the wind
And the bird songs
That are the first to speak
Of the winter’s end.

And I prefer to listen
And look often
To the farthest contours of the foothills against the sky,
Borne away from even my own voice that
Seems to demean the purity of things
Free and

And time,
A gentle drifting
Like a body on the surface of the lake
Drawn out to the center when
The tide is just right
Pulls me away from these cities we make
Inside our minds
To justify the way we think our lives
Mean more than hers;

Just a mother leading her young ones to take a drink,

And I will never stop her;

The spirit of honest things.

No, I hand her my heart to take to the center of this blue lake
And let it sink like a rock to the dark,
Cool depths where it belongs,

From whence it came.
Mar 18 · 749
Every Fiber of my Being
CarolineSD Mar 18
And there is the stillness of the endless sleep
Tucked deep beneath the winter’s snow
Curled within the thickness of the earth
Released from sadness
Released from pain




A consciousness freed to slip
Back into that vast ocean from whence it came,
Just like the way that stars exchange their lives in one,
Final dispersal of glorious light,
For the welcoming silence of a galactic night.

But then there is this cry
That falls and cuts hard and long right down the inner backbone of
My soul
And how it screams,

And how in one, single moment, I know with such clarity that

I don't want to go.

And I can barely hold all of this love
In my hands
And I grasp at it while it overflows like a raging river and I am
Clutching at
Each precious memory,
Soaked in the undeniable surety

That I love all of this more than I could ever say

And I want to save each fractured second of it all;
Tiny arms around my neck
Mommy goodnight
The way the snow glints off the distant, highest peaks
As the new Dakota sun begins to climb
And the way I can snake my steps along ridges lined with conifers
And find the highest rocks,
Climbing to where the hawks glide below
In the open spaces above the cliffs
Where the alpine slopes roll and roll
To horizons made of crimson sunset and gold.

And I know that this is home;

Like the first notes plucked of the most beautiful chord,

Or the way my breathing ebbs and flows
Like a gentle river that the painted mountains hold
In a quiet grace
When I lay my face
Against your chest

Or every time I hear your voice.

And I want to hold on
To all of this
And I don’t want to let go
And how can I ever rip the very fabric of my soul
And just fade away,

Let go?

Every fiber of my being screams out “no!”
There are times that slap me in the face and make me realize how soul shatteringly much I don't want to lose; how desperately I love.
"I began to hear my name
And silence in a hurricane
The dust was leaving from my veins
Like some forgotten border train
Carried to my home again"
Feb 21 · 272
Not for this world.
CarolineSD Feb 21
Within the expansion of time and space
Are designs of such grace and fragility
That a minuscule slip in the balance of cosmic,
Nuclear forces,
An imperceptible alteration of the alchemy that is creation
And there would have been nothing and no one to speak of
What it is

“To exist.”

Yes, there is some kind of faultless synchronicity,
A precision fit that
Holds all of


The exquisite symmetry of our spiraled, star swept galaxy.

And yet,
Among all of these elements, these forces, these pieces and
Fragmented masses
That seem to find a beautiful, celestial


I cannot say the same for my own spirit.

I do not think I was well-made for this world.

If there is a home,
A warm place to actually rest
A lighted space in which my heart will not race
And continuously break
As things of substance reveal a mundane emptiness;
The charade behind this endless parade of life,

And when I kneel between the silent pines,
Just by the rushing brook,
And I think I can hear God speak,
If there might be a time that this voice would actually break
Through the deafness of common day,
So that, just once, I could maybe,
Truly understand what it is trying

To say,

And if I could just push the veil away and curl up within
The kind of love that stays;

Then, maybe I would think that I was made by the same forces of Creation that wax and wane the tides;

That beautifully align

The stars.

But right now it feels like any home is very far


And while, perhaps, there are spirits made just for this place,

I do not know if I belong


At all.
"As you tune your radio, there are certain frequencies where the circuit has just the right resonance and you lock onto a station...Oxygen can be formed by combining helium and carbon nuclei, but the corresponding resonance level in the oxygen nucleus is half a percent too low for the combination to stay together easily. Had the resonance level in the carbon been 4 percent lower, there would be essentially no carbon. Had that level in the oxygen been only half a percent higher, virtually all the carbon would have been converted to oxygen. Without that carbon abundance, neither you nor I would be here."
- Astrophysicist, Hugh Ross

Isn't it funny that within all of the grand design of the universe that created worlds upon worlds and the very possibility of life, sometimes we can feel so ill-fitting? :(
Jan 19 · 930
CarolineSD Jan 19
A dark sun pulls heavily within
These long minutes of isolation
A vortex opens
A chasm in the lungs
And it makes the abrasive air thin.

I am breathing shallowly like one
Feral thing caught in a trap
Nowhere to run
And thus forced to rest right next
To the parts of myself that I hate
The parts that can’t escape their own
Internal blankness
Though they faintly remember how to sing or

The remote and shadowed trail to Jerusalem

Call me home
There is music in the bones of the forest
And the wild reeds are dancing on

The banks of Babylon  

We should not fall and
Lay our desecrated souls across an altar of darkness;

No, if you listen very carefully at the precipice of dawn,

There, where the mountains lift the thickened fog into a brightening sky

There is still the quiet drum of hope
And the flutter of so many unbeaten hearts
Like butterflies reborn


Inspired by this uplifting song out of South Africa. To me, it brings a sense of finding hope, finding a home for our worn souls <3 The words are in Zulu and mean “Jerusalem is my home, rescue me, walk with me, do not leave me here, come with me, walk with me” and these little dancers are a dance crew from Kampala, Uganda <3<3
Dec 2020 · 440
Wind like Rain
CarolineSD Dec 2020
I could say that it is burning in fire
Churning in great waves of charged ions
Like those which lift in monumental drifts from the surface of the sun;

A solar wind within.

I might succumb to the raging of the flames
Turn my face to the sky
And tremble beneath fingers that
Dance like the northern lights
Across the tundra of my skin.

My heart might thunder like horses born of fire
Hooves drumming across the curves of space and time,
Along the arching of my spine
Pressed to your chest.

Or is it not flame at all,

But a wind like rain?

My hands falling across the contours of your face
And how some memory of sadness cascades inside my soul,
Like in some forgotten time,
I lost you before,
And how I can never lay close enough
And the rain it falls and falls and falls
And how I tuck my cheek into your neck

And I just want to stay.
Dec 2020 · 494
Patterns on the water
CarolineSD Dec 2020
I remember letting my fingers trail through the cool
Surface of the water,
While the canoe
Skimmed and skimmed
Across the inky stillness of the lake.

Quiet and the sun not yet fully risen

Patterns on the water drawn with my fingertips
And then quickly receding
Back to glass

The world above all dawning blue
And the loons
Begin to call

The stars fall back last,
Giving up one by one to the gentle brightening
Of the Adirondack sun.

Still now, I walk with my fingers gliding through the lake,
Grazing the hidden veil.

There is something deeper here.

I reach one hand for the depths and the other holds the shore,
And I am somewhere aching along the surface
In-between them both.
Initially inspired by a memory of when I was very small, canoeing with my dad on one of the lakes in New Hampshire.
Nov 2020 · 455
Hopeful Little Thing
CarolineSD Nov 2020
Flying on an old wooden swing set
Green paint peeling off the sides
Sunlight descending through the spaces between the leaves
Thick on the branches of the old oaks
I never thought I would
Leave behind

She’s kicking high now
With spindly legs
And tipping her face upside down
Laughing like a child
Laughing though life would
Place a sadness in the world
Little by little.

I walk through the edges of the garden in a different time
My voice is hers and mine.

I will always love you
Hopeful little thing
Trusting that these ropes will hold forever
Looking back at four walls that will never crumble
But they did
And they do
And you knew, you always knew.

And if you could only hold onto one solid thing
And if you could just be bright enough to save every one

And isn’t that why you were always smiling?

Such a happy child.
Such a happy child.

And I want to tell you it is ok to stop smiling
And it is ok to let the swing fall down from the sky.
And it is ok that things die right there in the middle of the light
You try to bring.

I like you anyway
And I love you anyway
And I will swing beside you
And hold your hand and we can lay back our heads
and laugh and laugh and laugh
And maybe that will finally

Be enough

And I can forgive myself.
to the inner child..what would you say?

"I will always love you how I do
Let go of a prayer for you
It's a sweet word
The table is prepared for you

Wishing you godspeed, glory
There will be mountains you won't move
Still I'll always be there for you
How I do
I let go of my claim on you
It's a free world
You look down on where you came from sometimes
But still you'll have this place to call home always."
Oct 2020 · 449
Back to where I began
CarolineSD Oct 2020
Holiness is there where the druidic
Shadows of the pines rise straight and tall and dark against
The languishing light of day

Fire streaked across the sky
And all the peaks beneath
Graying into the silence of the night

Treading the needles underneath
And how the orange-red remnants of the sun push through the
Empty spaces recessed within the forest's soul,
Motionless bodies of the conifers solemn like
The standing stones of old

And dusk comes in quiet through the timber now

And there is no more hiding,
No more striving and trying,
Just the gentle truth that

We are all dying

And this forest,
Climbing wide across the ravines into the mountains
Holds me without possession

And it would let me go
Like the yellowed leaves that scatter on the earthen floor
Like the last glow of the evening sun
Touching canopies of crimson and gold

And there is this letting go that feels like home.

Like I could reach across this void and hold my mother’s hand
Like these cliffs might drop to the open moorland of the Isles

Where the ghost of my father stands

Like I am pulled back to where I began,

Like the way that it feels

Each time I lay down in your arms.
Sep 2020 · 214
CarolineSD Sep 2020

Toss clothes like fluttered wings
In this bag.
Throw just one ******* my shoulder and

Roll the windows down and amp up the music so loud I drown
Out the static of sadness that never ends.

Find the narrow path that no one takes
In the valley by the headwaters of the lake

Won’t even scan the brushland for snakes,

Just walk


Can’t make it right anyway
Can’t make anyone stay
Can’t fill up their world with what they deserve
Tried to play every role but I’m really


Wonder what it would feel like to find the serrated edges of the rock on the top of the highest cliffs and just

Step off

Wonder what it would feel like to tell the world to *******?

Wonder if I can walk high enough to leave half of myself
Underneath the glory of the ridgeline
Stamp her shadow down with these boots and

Rise lighter

Less encumbered by the pitiful way she cries
Walk the rough trail that cuts straight up the rocks
Stand on the top
And let the sun
Burn the guilt off
Melt my heart right there on the mountain

Let it go

In the currents across the river washed rocks
Carried away to the nadirs of the sea
Where there is no special place for tears

And the whales leap up and breach the waves

And everything that ever mattered lifts in the arching spray and


But I am just a girl
Knees in the cool dirt
By the forest’s edge
And I’m not dumb enough to give it all up

And there isn’t really any blade to this hurt
Just a dull ache
That falls away the further I follow the river
Through the quaking aspens
Along the pine framed cliffs
Into the sky.

I can leave it all behind
For a little while
Toss this canvas bag onto the rough ground
Turn around

And walk into your waiting arms.
is it ok that you've been my safe space for so long?
Sep 2020 · 1.6k
No More or Less Than Love
CarolineSD Sep 2020
So many voices yelling and echoing and cluttering up
Every heartbeat with dissonant commands;
Discordant rhythms
That give chase, pulse racing wildly ahead,
But I can never escape because the speaker is


Who taught me these monologues of doubt?

I’m trying to find some dark corner to crawl into
And hide
From all of the should be’s
And didn’t you’s
And what if’s
And why aren’t you good enough to
And why can’t you just fix everything
And why aren’t you strong enough
To just live
And not break at every streak of light
Surmounting the dregs of night when the morning returns again
And still there is a feeling of falling
And not knowing if you should reach out and hold onto something,
Or not?

And so you just grip your coffee cup as if it were
A solitary rock
In the middle of
A storm-whipped sea
And I really just need to wrap myself around
Something that is made of clay
And dirt,

Drag my spirit through the veins of the earth,
Where the cut-banked canyons rise into a
Reddened western sky  
And release the broad-winged birds to flight.

And everything is quiet

And I know my worth:

No more or less than the brush along the shore.
No more or less than the darting shapes across the river’s floor.
No more or less than the dusk,
Than a gentle touch across my face,

Than love;

No more or less than love

And how it spills like water over rocks
And moves like music through the blood

And how the morning becomes quiet
And I am
Singing softly to my children,

I won’t give up.
Jul 2020 · 481
Weightless Space
CarolineSD Jul 2020
I like to still my heart in the lake,

Turn my face to the turquoise sky
And let each mountain rise along the shorelines and I am

Suspended in weightless space;
A resting place between sunlight and a blacker deep.

I turn my cheek to the caress of the water's
Firm hands that
Permeate my heart with love.  

A wild, alpine forest rises above


You are the only one

Whose arms

Around my soul

Will ever  be

Jun 2020 · 263
Child Soldier
CarolineSD Jun 2020
The truth is that, sometimes,
I can barely remember your face,
But I always recall happiness lightly skirting pain;
A smile like a masked animal of prey,
Every interaction,
Laying heavy like a thick shroud of strain,
Pulling the corners of your eyes into near total exhaustion,
Like one who guards the boundary lines of a village at war
And the shifts never change.

You were a child soldier
Innocence obliterated
Soul stolen at birth
A tiny form placed at the frontlines,
Armed with nothing,
Not even a choice.

And they made you fight without mercy
And you took more than your allotment of bruises
Standing there in front of your little sisters with your fists
Forever clenched
I remember you said you conjured your strongest self
When they came to **** the babies.

You tried so hard to be the savior
But you were a child soldier
Fighting giants with monstrous darkness in their hearts
And how they ripped through your tiny body and tore
All of your selves apart.

Yet, still you loved me,
From somewhere good that lay untouched
Beyond the broken mirrors of formative years
Fragmented in your blood
And how they would suddenly reflect a memory
And cut,

And how I tried to heal you with my
Child’s arms around your neck
And how it was never enough
And how I wore your blood,

How it lays now upon my skin,
And how it feels like pain

And how it feels like love.  

I will carry it like armor
And I don’t blame you for giving up.
For my mom, whose childhood was a war zone. I love and miss you :(
Jun 2020 · 1.5k
To give up.
CarolineSD Jun 2020
The great arms of the cottonwoods release fragments of
Themselves across the evening sky,
As if the edges of clouds could
Lift from the flutter of leaves
And drift out and away,
As if giving up fragments of oneself
Is soft and easy,
Like the bend of the river
Around the greening banks
On a gentle summer day.

Like giving up is not brutal
Or bones cracked on the cold tile of the
Bathroom floor
When you can’t even do this anymore
And there are tears laid around you like bright
Flowers of pain
Spilled and wilted and dried up again
And you curl into yourself
And simply wait for
The end.

There is a giving up in that roughness and there is a giving up in
The radiance of the sun
Emanating from the warm rocks at the edge of the cliffs,
Lifted off the backs of the verdant hills,
And there is a giving up that is a gift
And not an acquiescence.

And thus it is,
Like the river’s edge,
I give up this familiar space
To the flooding of the rains;

Take the banks of all I know
And allow their swift erosion
Down to the vulnerability
Of my soul.

I give up the strongholds
Of dread
And cast these crafted layers to the edges of the stars

And I won’t give up the openness of my heart,

Or the way I can see so far
Across this wild, limitless wilderness
Of hope,

Or how it grows
Within the shelter of your hands.
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?
Well, I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Jun 2020 · 114
To ask why.
CarolineSD Jun 2020
I'm so tired of being afraid
Of trying to control the world so that
No one that I love gets hurt.

I can't do it anymore.
God didn't bless my hands
And people die even though I whisper a command:

"Please, don't."

Don't take them. Please don't take them.

But my voice is mute.

I relinquish it all, creator of all things. I'm nothing but a speck of
Dirt upon a distant shore.

What more, what more, what more?

You take all you can imbibe and we
Are nothing but an aside to your
Great appetite.

Take me.

Take it all.

I'm done being afraid. Come at me and I'll hide in these

Great hills

And everyone will forget me

Like it is our destiny to do.

And I'm done trying to save a world
You discard still, and still we are nothing,

But ash within the dirt
And the birds come first
To watch us die.

And it is the sky that claims us.

And I will not dare to presume that I am important enough to ask,

May 2020 · 469
CarolineSD May 2020
Chaos permeates
And there are too many voices
Lamenting and screaming,
And there is fear like a great machine churning
And there is death and an eerie
Grinding of gears that feels
Somehow driven
And managed,
And I feel pushed upon it and carried to where
I don't want to go.

But, yet

Out in these canyons, beneath the rough granite that rises
And the great pines that ****** their arms into the sky,

There is peace by the river, still.

Walk along beside it
Through the thick brush that hides us
From everything beyond just

This moment and

The current pushes onwards
Speaking only in healing tones
As it spirals around the rocks
And over hidden waterfalls, flows
Down, down, down.

And there is shelter here in the
Deafening sound of the wild water rushing

And there is peace by the river, still.

Out here, it is life or death,
And you don't always get to decide which, so

Lay your body at the temple of the mountains
And give up all of your questions.

Just free fall into the wind beneath the cliffs,

Into nothing and everything and

I love you, still.
May 2020 · 206
CarolineSD May 2020
What purity is rendered from the wreckage of these days?
Hearts torn asunder and splayed across a dying world;
A world that falls like dreams do
When the light hits hard across the room.

And I want to hold something heavy and cold,

Like the smooth stones at the base of the current’s flow,

But I am grasping air

And my breath weaves a river that dissipates
Like the memory of snow
Across the western peaks
Before the harsh rays of late spring
Melt these sculpted constructs down to nothing but
Granite and bone,

And the scintillating potential of the soul,

Like a wound that festers,
Or is rendered,
Into something mercilessly scarred
But somehow, more beautiful,
And whole.  

In the breaking, there is death,

And I question whether that is all there is.

Sometimes, the breaking never ends and all I see is a failure to save her. The darkness claims her over and over again in my mind and
There is the sharp absence of a savior,

Anywhere, here on earth,
Or later,

And it certainly wasn’t me.

So, is that what this life will be?
Or can we render light from the wreckage of these days,
If we were to drop down and crawl on bended knees
To some higher place

Where there is redemption in defeat

And a new life
Fresh and green
Sprouting from the remnants of our own humility
In which we must now anchor

I don't want people to break and die. I didn't want to lose my mom and not in the way that we did. I'm sorry for all of this suffering. It seems, sometimes, that we will be broken of our arrogance one way or another, even the arrogance that we have some kind of right to live. And I wonder if there will be something better born or rendered in humility, or if there is nothing at all.
Apr 2020 · 735
CarolineSD Apr 2020
Where will I ever lay this love down
Like the mist above the mountains
That gathers and suspends within the waking sky
Until at once
The sun rises
And it falls
Like a child into her mother’s arms?

And the valleys
They rest
Quiet and calm
Sheltered within the soft fingers of a curling fog

And my heart
Is just like that

Heavy with the condensation of love

Held aloft by a darkness that refuses to rise
Thirsty for the first faint tendrils of light

That I may then, finally,
Release this love
And let it lie


Thick and soft and warm,
Curled around the valleys

Of a heart
Like my own.
Apr 2020 · 282
Fade in Place
CarolineSD Apr 2020
Three children and I am
Their only hope.
Closed borders have cut us off from every relation of blood
They have ever known.

Shelter in place
Ripping apart the supports we once relied on.
There is no world now
But us.

There are these walls,
This patch of ground,
And me,
Between them
And the chaos outside.
I am the barrier
And I am also the provider
The teacher
The soother
The only pillar that didn't fall.

And I am holding it all,
Piecing it all together
With tired hands.
I stand alone
Broken and strong
Taking one more step
One more breath
One more minute
In a life that has become
Very small;
So small that I feel it might just

I fade in place
And still conjure one more day
From an infinite emptiness.
Mar 2020 · 224
A Sinister Wind
CarolineSD Mar 2020
There is a sinister wind


Like a rippling black sheet,
It slinks beneath the currents of the air

And wants in.

It wants in my lungs.

It wants in my heart.

It wants in the very molecules that bind us together

And tear us apart

And it will consume the soul of the world
And it will destroy the spirit of the poet
And render our warm palms


A frigid wind that inflames and then


That whips the corners of the earth
And rips apart
The hands that pray.

I want to cast it out like a bad omen
I want to burn this sage and scream

Leave us alone!

Leave us alone!

Leave us alone!

Surely we are bad and we have sinned
And there are those who live in greed and let arrogance win,
But these ones with the kind eyes
And a lifetime of good deeds left behind,

What have they done?

What have we done?

We are just trying to love
We are just trying to live.

Forgive us and be done with this


Be done with this black wind!
Let the darkest recesses of the universe breathe and draw it back from whence it came

Never to exhale again.

Please, God,


Let us live
Let us redeem

Mar 2020 · 214
Scaffolding Made of Sand
CarolineSD Mar 2020
As the normalcies of life splinter and fall away like ice
Brushed from a window pane,
There is no place left to look
But in,
And there is nowhere to run.

There is no sea of peace
Except that which we return to
Inside, within.

I lay my body down beneath an imagined sun
And feel the textured sand against my skin
And pretend that
This darkness outside will end

And in this way, I can hold their little hands and claim that
The life we knew before will begin again,

But the truth is,
It may get so much worse,
And we may be called to carry far heavier loads before these
Tides reverse.

So, cling tightly to the inner worlds;

The rest is as scaffolding made of sand,
How quickly it fractured and fell to the ground.
Mar 2020 · 252
Pieces of the Morning
CarolineSD Mar 2020
Just a simple girl with a simple heart
Trying to hold the pieces of the morning together
So that they do not fall apart.

The way the ocher light filters through
The bare limbs of early spring
And casts a faint glow upon the hardwood floor
Where my cat curls into herself and sleeps
And the steam lifts from my coffee cup
And the distant highway purrs.

Ridges thick with pines line the horizon
And somewhere a northern train trundles the endless tracks,
Sings into the wide, Dakota sky
And calls the dwindling stars out to die against the light of dawn.

I hold my own
Here in this western valley where these reckless dreams are reborn,
Laptop open, words upon the page,
Three little children not yet awake.

Will I keep them safe

If I speak these truths into the emergence of the sun,

If I spill this simple love across a blank slate?
Feb 2020 · 159
CarolineSD Feb 2020
Like the banks of the Colorado River eroded by the wind and the water and the whipping rain of the western skies,

All temporal things slip


We hold what we can.
Resolute boulders break the flow,
Try to arrest the water as it goes
Rushing on towards the eternity

Of the sea

Only temporarily are these tangible things owned
Bodies clutched close
As if we could hold back the wind with our fingers,
But as the storm gathers and lifts the sand from the cliffs

Only the memories linger

The sunset falls outside my window
And all that was
Is left to dwindle to a trickle of a feeling
Of a ghost against the redness of the sky.

One must learn to look inwards

Because these outward landscapes of mothers and fathers and sons and daughters

They fly

And these moments are like the shadows of birds
Across the waters of the western plains;

Here, while the dying sun remains,

And gone.
Feb 2020 · 295
Slip beneath the sheets
CarolineSD Feb 2020
Slip beneath the sheets of all that is a façade
Layered on to reinforce the thickness of the skin
So that wounds within
Are not brushed by
Light or wind.

There is pain in the airing out of spaces unchained
Within the heart;
Yet, there is an aching for just that,

Like a lost soul out on some wild and dusty road

Craves the stars

Lead me to soft hands
In the dark
That deftly release the buttons of my shirt
And slip inside
To pull me into a breaking
That shatters and unites

The soul with God.
That is the true power of love.
Feb 2020 · 2.0k
CarolineSD Feb 2020
I am deciduous
Verdant and tender
Alive in the resonance
Of your voice.

I will tremble in the winds of summer
When the night’s cool edges
Ripple the leaves against the sky

And I

Am awash in a hallowed rhythm.

I crave a sacred touch
Like wilderness
Like music
Like pulsing rivers of blood
Flooding my veins,
Like the greening of forests
In spring.

My leaves sing
When skimmed by the rough edges of your fingertips
Dipped now into the crevices of my hips and
I will bend like a sapling in your palms
And I will lick the sun

Until the gray of winter falls
And there is the inevitable return to earthly things
Trapped a deciduous being
Always longing for
Realms that are evergreen.
Jan 2020 · 208
The Grace to See
CarolineSD Jan 2020
The night is a broad canvas
And the mountains emerge along the edges
In serrated silhouettes.

A black ribbon highway lies ahead
Splitting the snow-brushed open spaces that
Glow faintly white
Under a yellow moon.

And here, I will forget

All that rests behind.

I will give up these thoughts of
Not being enough
And let
The great painter brush
My soul into the very center
Of this wild
And forest-laden place.

I will rush along the snow-touched pavement
To the darkened bodies
Of the hills

And a love that
I can feel
In the atoms of the air.

It is born of wilderness
And winds
That tumble from the high rocks
And bend the grasses only to rise
And begin again.

It is born of narrow roads
At higher elevations
And hidden, rushing streams in places
Where I walked along the banks
And held your hand.

It is born of my children’s laughter in the
Orange-red sunrise of the morning

And it is born of forgiveness;

Forgiveness for what is forming on the canvas of a life
I have washed clean

And it is born of finally allowing myself the grace to see

The beauty of it.
Jan 2020 · 486
What It Is
CarolineSD Jan 2020
It is 2am, the way you reach for me in your sleep
And I can curl into your core and my legs don’t even reach
Your ankles.

It is the way I can’t quite wrap my arms all the way around
Your chest,
But I try anyway,
On my tippy toes with
My face turned up,
Asking you to kiss me

Because three hundred thousand kisses

Is never enough.

It is this love
That does not capture or possess

Or give up.

And in the morning, the way I smile when my phone rings and I
See your name.

It is laughter and silly voices
And when you toss my children end over end on the bed
Until you’re close to dead but
They’re screaming "one more time!"

And the way you can see the magic in their eyes when
The rest of the world
Looks away.  

And the way
I can break

All snot-nosed and crying,
Throwing things down and
You just fold yourself around me

And just like that,

Inside my heart there is

Only love.
Darling you're with me, always around me.
Only love, only love.
Darling I feel you, under my body.
Only love, only love.
Give me shelter, or show me heart
Come on love, come on love.
Watch me fall apart, watch me fall apart.

And I'll be yours to keep.
A wind in the shadow, a whale song in the deep.
A wind in the shadow, a whale song in the deep
Dec 2019 · 269
Smoke Screen
CarolineSD Dec 2019
He stormed into the room and a smoke screen descended
Across the paper thin surface of
His eyes,
Thick burgeoning clouds
Hiding every vulnerable thing,
Concealing the knots of pain
That he unties
And whips across my face
In anger.
Little son, why?
You are too small to suffer such possession,
Such a blank canvas stare,
As if you were no longer there.

There have been cataclysmic shifts inside your world,
And perhaps you feel as if you have no control,
But this darkness,
It is feeding off the edges of your soul
And I am practically on my knees
Begging you to curl
Back into me,
Like you did in the days before

You were born.

Please let me love you out of this sadness.

I would sacrifice each of my limbs,
And more,
Just to know the right way to guide
Your little spirit
Into the light,
And far away from the lingering threat  
Of storm clouds
Across your eyes,
And their depths,
That should be only
For my little son. I don't like it when you're not ok, but I will love you through each and any storm.
Dec 2019 · 365
Fields of Fire
CarolineSD Dec 2019
Fields of fire rage behind the veil,
A love so wild
It breaks across the rocks
Like water and falls
Away from my hands.

Always seeking that other rough land,
So beautiful
The skies glint like the edges of knives
And cut through my ribs like music,
Like chords that come alive
And bleed

Every time I breathe
Drawing in the crisp air by the gurgling creek,
Footsteps rhythmic on the snow-laden leaves,
Not quite cold enough to freeze.

It is such torture to feel

It is such torture to feel

It is such torture to feel

To always feel,


There is beauty here but it is like a mirrored image encased in dust.

There is a kingdom of love in your eyes,
Inside the voice of
The river wild
And when the sunrise alights
The bodies of the pines against the sky,
And when your fingertips trace the contours of my spine,

I am sinking
Down in fields of fire;
And I would gladly drown in the incandescence,
Ripped apart by the knife edges
Of such a beautiful truth.

Something rages beyond the veil,
Like fire inside the mountain;

There is something holy here,
If only I knew how to find it,

Or is it
In death
That we do?
"Now I see fire, inside the mountain
I see fire, burning the trees
And I see fire, hollowing souls
And I see fire, blood in the breeze
And I hope that you'll remember me"
Dec 2019 · 233
I wear false armor.
CarolineSD Dec 2019
I wear false armor against a darkness that I profess to have pushed into a whimpering corner
Where it coils into itself and dies,
But really waits,
Yellow eyes muted in temporary resignation,
For chinks to appear in the illusion of hardened steel
That is actually feather light webbing around my heart
Painted swiftly in the silver
Haze of hope.

I call upon a greater light to solder these strands into something Fearless that can
Take flight
And never again be caught by the claws of a black night,
But every time
This armor shows a hidden *****,
A careless gap,
And like the weakness near a dragon’s heart
Depression finds the space to shoot that all too familiar

Once again,
Curled up against the door,
Megaphones of violence, screaming,
“Don’t you know you’ll never be more than a false warrior in false Armor,
Destroyed on the bathroom floor?!”

And I just don’t give a **** anymore
And I almost give up, every time.

But this is not a poem about dying.

Beautiful soul, pick up your armor,
Paint it as steel,
Paint it as gold,
And breathe into it your pure, unadulterated inner light that
Every time
Can make fragmented things

I wear this fragile armor with pride. It is not as strong as I sometimes pretend it to be, but each time I Sew the pieces back together with my own light
it becomes more beautiful to me.
You are all more beautiful to me.

Stitch along the seams of your brokenness and heal.
Dec 2019 · 352
Like the tears of angels
CarolineSD Dec 2019
Funny how the gift of one soft moment is only recognized
In the sharpness of its disappearance;
In the harshness of the void
When the insignificant details
That were nothing but edges to a forgotten minute
Take on the weight
Of the world,

And suddenly, that small moment
Swells with the power to curl
Inside your heart and burst it
At the seams,

And in your mind,
Flash images of all of those things you never
Appreciated nearly enough;
Never savored like you would,
Had you known that
In the blackness of the night
They would disappear

Like dust.

Every trickle of morning rain into the rushing of the creek
Every solid step I can still take along the banks

Every breath

Every breath

Every breath

And every time I caress my son’s cheek
And every time I can still feel his tiny arms
Wrapped around my waist
And every time

I should drop to my knees in thanks.

My daughter’s face alight because she can spell her name
And how their footsteps echo on the stairs
Like rain

Caught in a moment in time.

And, I can see now that

It will change.

So, let me hold them
Like gravity
Holds the stars
And let me clutch you now in these small moments that are still ours.

And in gratitude
Let me hold these fleeting minutes in my palms,

Like the tears of angels

Like holy water

That rains upon desert

And is gone.
Let me try gratitude before it is too late.
CarolineSD Nov 2019
A blinding desert sun and the sky like a looking glass, fractured.
Light streaming through the tops of Baobab trees
And red, sub-Saharan dirt kicked up
Like a dry mist.

There is a broad vista,
Some kind of savanna and
I am standing,
Face raised to the wind
Straining to see the horizon,
And in that quiet moment,
They come riding.

Atop the lumbering, gray bodies of Mastodons
They are dressed in cloths
Of red and orange and black.
There is an ancient, robed shepherd
Sitting astride a great, trudging beast,
And in his right hand
He holds a staff.
Solemnly, he pushes his behemoth mount on
Faster until the ground
Might split within the tremulous thunder of it.

And I must not run.
I hear a quiet voice urging me to walk on,
Walk out,
Walk up to it.
Face this thing.
And so, I do not cry out or hide
Or even step from one side to the other.

I walk a straight line
As swiftly the rider approaches,
Sand flying like fire,
And soon they tower above me,

But the eye,
The eye of the beast is kind, and it stops within inches of my face,
And peers down like some
Great, all-knowing thing.

Above him,
The rider leans sideways and extends the staff towards my neck.
Gently, there is a touch against my skin
And in that moment
There is a transference
An instance of knowing
Something given from Him.

I remember, it felt just like,
“Your soul is never alone”
And I fell to my knees with the relief of it.
A dream from long ago that appeared at the right time in a difficult year.
Nov 2019 · 677
Warm front
CarolineSD Nov 2019
In higher elevations
Herald a sea-change in the sky.

A warm front slides over the frigid edges of autumn
And pushes the cold away.

In these few hours
The atmosphere rolls
And turns over
Drawing the warmth down to the tree lines of the hills
And to these streets
Where we feel
A gentler hand upon the skin.

Like the permeating of a warm front
Through the cold

I am drawn to you.

I turn over in these sheets
And push the winter away.
With every movement, I
Pull your body to me.

For this small space of time
I rest in broad shoulders protecting mine,
And I am hiding in you.

I will strip off these layers
And leave all of these barriers
Strewn across the floor.

I am not afraid of the cold.

Pressed into you
Skin to skin
There is only warmth.
Nov 2019 · 195
Fires of the heart
CarolineSD Nov 2019
All of these fires of the heart
Burning on the surface like the last remnants of
Of a civilization nearly gone;

Huddled forms tending flames that
Beat back the dark
Through short hours
Stretched along a dying road.

Ever since I was a little girl
I knew
We would all leave here,

Are we really anything more than scattered bones
Across the open undulation of the plains?
The scavengers stretch their wings into the sky and dive
To sift through the fragments of life we
Leave behind,
No more significant than fallen leaves along the forest floor
Before the snow comes;

Yet, there is warmth in my skin so strong
It wants to burst forth and form a new star out of love;
Something that hangs above this pain
And calls rivers out to run
Across the dust of nothingness
Before the sun dies, at last.

And yet, it is not enough

To halt the trains of time.
My children and I
Sit outside a hollow station by the iron tracks
And keep these flames alight;

Their laughter,
How it
Colors the sky
Red and orange
And their souls hold back the night.

Still, beyond the shadows of our bodies at the edges of the fire,

The darkness is a tide.

What words should we speak into the void so that it does not

“He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.”

“You have to carry the fire."
I don't know how to."
Yes, you do."
Is the fire real? The fire?"
Yes it is."
Where is it? I don't know where it is."
Yes you do. It's inside you. It always was there. I can see it.”

Cormac McCarthy, The Road
CarolineSD Nov 2019
“Til the rocks melt with the sun;”
Is that how long love goes on,
Beyond the trappings of time and the outer contours of the mind?

I learned of love within the cadence of Celtic songs.
Daddy played them on an old piano
And mommy sang along.
The walls they rang with something that wasn’t
Really so hard to understand;

The aching of one heart for another,
Always swept apart by the sea
And the way a lifetime
Can make it too far to reach
The other, distant shore.

But the sorrow at the core of Highland songs,
I understand better now;  
Now that every tangible thing from those years
Is gone,
Their voices silenced and a home knocked down,
Lullabies buried in the ground.
The piano sold and gravestones too far away for me to hold,

But love, love is the Moorland in my soul

And it is wide and open
And the purple heather grows
Forever and descends to a churning sea,
And melodies, on the wind, they whip between the rocks and disappear.

And though I can no more grasp voices from the air
Than hold love here,
I will stand on this shore and I will sing these

Forgotten refrains

And though they drift across the sea,
This love has been worth it all the while,
Even if time carries it away,

Like music,

And it never comes back to me,
"Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
   And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
   While the sands o’ life shall run."
-Robert Burns
Oct 2019 · 276
Yet, Somehow I
CarolineSD Oct 2019
You had the strength to survive the devastation of war;
The height to overcome, to surpass;

Yet, somehow I, so small, on my tippy toes,
Chest to your core,

Still hold you like the most breakable glass.

CarolineSD Oct 2019
Wounded and bleeding internally
On the side of the road.
Trying so hard to breathe
Trying so hard to live
In a body that is inevitably dying.

He does not expect help.
There is no way out.
Blood is staining the markings on his legs.
Blood is staining the pavement around his broken shape.
Blood is falling, falling, falling
And there is no end
But pain.
There is no solace in this suffering
And no savior came.

We drive on by.
He must have jumped the fence at the wrong time.
Though meant to scan the wild grasslands,
His eyes
They were simply

Sometimes there is no one that can help you.

I remember when they pulled the lines
From the back of my father’s hands.
All of those medicines of hope
No more potent than sand.
No other alternative
No other possible plan
Than to accept this death
Like a lone animal
Crumpled by the side of the road
Eyes fixated on wild lands
He will never, again roam.

And it is similar with the soul.

Bleeding out from secret wounds
That bore into the insides of our bones.

And no one knows.

And no one sees.

And so we sit in silence
And so we hold our grief
With the resignation and the glazed eyes of broken, dying beasts
Out on some empty road.

Until someone kneels
Down beside you
And finally, finally


Cupping your face in his hands,
He says,

Look at how you bleed

And though he cannot completely, ever
Stem the flow
And though no one can completely
Save you now.
It is like a burden lifted because


Someone sees.


Someone knows.

You are no longer simply abandoned at the edges of the road.

Someone hit their knees beside you
In the pools of your own blood
And reached through this impenetrable emptiness

With only love.


I couldn't save a dying Pronghorn on a highway through the prairie today. I couldn't save my mother or my father, but sometimes, we can save each other. Sometimes, we can open our eyes and see each other, and maybe, that is the same thing.
Oct 2019 · 201
CarolineSD Oct 2019
I’ve been to such depths

(with you)

That the shallows are forever ruined.
The sand is covered in shells that crack underfoot
And do not sing.

I hold them gently to my ear
But the whales are crying in the trenches of the sea
And their songs cannot find me here.

Melodies weep through the mantles of the earth;

Liturgy seeps through the dirt.

I’ve been to such depths


Falling backwards into the stars
From the rock strewn ridges of Medicine Bow Peak,

Forever haunted in the shallows,
I am pulled to the deep.

Let me sleep beneath the blood moon tides.
The starlight glints off the crashing seas,

And there are fathoms in your eyes.
CarolineSD Oct 2019
And when the butterflies returned,
They fluttered down from
Hidden caverns draped in verdant moss.
Trailing dark tendrils of apocalyptic dusk,
They settled on the fragrant grass,
And like recessed memories,


And when the butterflies returned,
They flapped their harlequin wings,
Like Ashanti dancers in the wind,
Clothed in Kente cloth,
Alighting on graveyard moss,
And like the faded wording on a wooden cross,


And when the butterflies returned, they skimmed like vibrant gems
Across the sea,
And gathered like scattered drops of multicolored rain  
Across the fallowed fields,
And rivers that had healed,
And where man’s touch had once disfigured,

Now all forgot.

And so it is in life and death.

All that was once fire and depth
Breaks from the body

Like falling wings and

We are left

Forgotten things,

Each new day reborn
In glorious colors

Like a swarm of Monarchs across
The yellow of the dawn


Forever on

Without us.
Oct 2019 · 354
Reach for me.
CarolineSD Oct 2019
You are sitting alone by the tallest trees of the forest,
Perched quietly on that stone that was turned over by the erosion of silted banks;
The wild river, a little ways off,
But still the roar of it fills the air.
Your hands are clasped in front of you
And your backpack is slung to the side.
Above your quiet form,
The mountains rise like citadels
And their alpine slopes abound with pines
Like sentinels, watching,
Hiding the yellow eyed wolves
That dart within.
But they will not approach you.
They also attend the dusk,
And the secrets it brings.
The singing of the coyotes
Calls the stars out
One by one,
Emerging in a deepening blue,
While the fire of the sun’s descent
Subsides too,
Into blackness.

The night birds call.

I am here, my love.
Can you see my silhouette against the moon?
The darkness between us thickens
Like blood from a wound.

Reach for me

High above you, a white owl alights,
Beating its ragged wings against the thickness
Of the wilderness;
The dark shadows of the pines, motionless,
Yet, I shake.

Reach for me

You shift your weight and turn to face
The space where I stand.
You lift your hand as if
To gently place my hair
Behind my ear,

Remember how you always loved to do that
When I was here?

You touch me, almost!
We are so **** close!

You are crying now, alone,

The night birds sing to a ghost.
Oct 2019 · 296
CarolineSD Oct 2019
These secret gardens are watered by tributaries of pain
That cut through the wild meadows that fall from the edges of the mountains,

The waters run deep in the fertile dirt
And though they slice hard with the knife-edges of agony,
They nourish the most beautiful

Fields of the rarest wildflowers and thick forests of enchanted aspen and pines.

The pain.

It grows terrible things in the darkness
But look,
Look how beautiful your wilderness is
In the light.

I place my hands on your heart.
Inside, there is a small child,

Shattered by violence

And I am just trying to say
That all of your secret gardens of pain,
Those hidden corners in which I played,

Never, ever, held any shame.

The depths of your brokenness and the strength of your love for me
Felt just the same.

I grew in your meadows of sorrow and your tears they watered my spirit

Like rain.
Mom, you endured more than most people could survive, and all of it, even your agony, even your brokenness, it was always beautiful to me. I miss you.
Oct 2019 · 910
A Moment Worth Waiting In
CarolineSD Oct 2019
Don’t you even close your eyes
Lest you miss how bright
This morning is.

Even the ice will fall in
A masterpiece of light
And though it cuts hard
Through the warmth of the night
I will lay my palms outside
And clutch it.

Reach with me now
Into the crackling cold
And feel something there
So pure
There are crystals dripping down
The insides of my soul.

Don’t you even close your eyes.
There will be diamonds drifting from the skies
From clouds so thick
And so white
This stabbing pain
Will be shredded into
Wild kaleidoscopes of light,

Similar to the ones in your eyes.

Let us not miss this moment.
Strip the blankets of summer
And feel the sting of truth,
A biting wind along my skin;
It sings


Don’t you even close your eyes
And if you should
Be it only in the circle of my arms
Where our hearts
Move in a quiet beating
And the rest is silence
And rest is peace and

A bright moment worth waiting,

"Well the night's forlorn and the morning's born and the morning shines with the lights of love. And you'll miss sunrise if you close your eyes and that would break my heart in two"
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