Life is funny like that.
It spins you in circles
then asks why you’re dizzy.
Gives you a heart,
then dares you to guard it.

I was never sure of myself,
just a constant echo of “maybe” and “not yet,”
all that doubt
stacked high like unpaid bills
and broken promises
to the person I was supposed to become.

Never had the money
to take the next step,
never had the nerve
to leap without the net.
So I stayed.
Right there.
Stuck in the space between
what I wanted
and what I feared I’d lose.

I let you go,
but only halfway.
Held on with one hand
while waving goodbye with the other.
Not because I stopped loving you,
but because I couldn’t bear
to be the reason you broke.

I didn’t wanna let you down.

And still, I kept living
Even when falling felt like flying
without the freedom.
Even when the silence was louder
than the words I couldn’t say.

Life keeps changing
no warning, no manual,
just motion.
Fast.
Relentless.
And sometimes cruel.

But I fight to stand tall
in the shadows of my own doubt,
hoping..
no, believing
that maybe one day
I’ll break through it all.

Because life is funny like that.
Sometimes, the fall
is just the beginning
of the rise.

All we have left is a photograph
Where memories live, where shadows last.
Bell-bottom jeans with embroidered patch,
“Magoo” stitched neat on the pocket flap.

A smile wide beneath round-framed glasses,
A knit cap perched as each moment passes.
A snapshot kept so time won’t erase
The lines of love etched in his face.

My uncle’s shadow, soft and thin
Rests on my cheeks, my chin, my grin.
My auntie says I’m much like you,
With kindness clear in all I do.

You left too soon, a fleeting spark,
But I hold you still within my heart.
Though years have flown and time has passed,
The McKenny name and love will last.

Who are they calling Them?
Like Them doesn’t have a name.
Like Them has no story.
Like Them just appeared one day
uninvited,
unwanted,
unwelcome.

Is Them different than me?
Does Them not bleed red, dream big, cry soft at night?
Does Them not hold memories the way I do
with trembling hands and silent prayers?

Who are they talking about when they say Them?
Oh… Them.
The neighbor. The worker. The mother. The son.
The one who speaks with a different rhythm,
prays with a different posture,
loves with a different fire.

Why are you so afraid of Them?
Do you think Them will replace you?
Take your place,
steal your space,
erase your name from the page?

There are fewer of Them than there are of you.
But still, you tremble.
Still, you point.
Still, you speak of Them with spit on your tongue.

You use harsh words to describe Them.
But I know Them.
I’ve laughed with Them.
Worked beside Them.
Heard Them sing when they thought no one was listening.

You claim strength,
but your fear betrays you.
You built this nation on the backs of Them.
Sent Them to die in wars you declared from safe rooms.
Expected Them to serve your plate,
then disappear before dessert.

But don’t you still need Them?
To harvest, to heal, to build, to teach?
To raise your children
and bury your dead?

I don’t want Them to go away.
I like Them.
I am Them.

And maybe…
maybe you are too.

I’ll call you a sucker
But that ain’t quite right,
You reek of betrayal
And swallowed the light.

Did you drink the Kool-Aid?
Bow low, kiss the ring?
Now you’ve got buyer’s remorse
Feel the blade as it stings.

Are you a loyalist,
Blind in your grace?
Ready to bleed
Just to save their face?

You’ll take the bullet,
They’ll walk away clean.
You die for a cause
They live like kings.

You’ve been duked, my friend
Sold out and used.
The crown they wore
Left you bruised.

MMR.
Three letters.
A shield forged in science.
But you turned your back,
Called it poison,
Chose pride over protection.

You read one blog.
Watched one video.
And suddenly,
You’re wiser than the centuries
That buried children
By the thousands.

You walk freely,
But carry death on your breath.
Invisible.
Unknowable.
Unforgiving.

The infant at the store-
Too young to be immune.
The neighbor with chemo-
Too weak to fight.
The pregnant nurse-
Counting heartbeats
That may never take their first breath.

You say,
“It’s my choice.”
But your choice
Becomes their grave.

The virus doesn’t care
What you believe.
It only cares
That you were kind enough
To let it in.

So when the fever comes-
When the rash blooms
Like fire under your skin-
When the breath shallows,
And your lungs forget how to rise-
Know this:

You could have stopped it.
You could have been the break in the chain.
But you chose to be the link.
And now,
You’re the strain.

I wish I could
But you’ll soon see,
The words don’t always come to me.
I stutter, stall, unable to rant,
And what I’d say, I simply can’t.

I don’t speak much,
Though I wish I might,
But my thoughts don’t land just right.
From brain to mouth,
There’s something lost
A moment’s pause,
At such a cost.

They call me quiet,
Say I’m shy,
But they don’t know how hard I try.
To shape my thoughts into a stream,
To speak aloud what I dare dream.

I long to stand
And boldly say,
The things I hold back every day.
A public speaker, I’ve wished to be,
And I’ve worked hard in therapy.

They taught me breath,
To roll each sound,
But still my voice gets turned around.

So if I stutter
Please just know,
It breaks my heart
To let it show.

To simply speak
As you all do
To say what’s real,
To say what’s true.

But I stay silent,
Face composed
The quiet one
That no one knows.