After a great while the paper elephants march
In their sparse herd they lumber along
One by one, their thick legs slam into the earth
Like pennies on a timpani
Leaving slight imprints in the dust

No one is quite sure where they come from
All we know is they just are there
Some raise their children before witnessing the elephants
A lucky few will even see them a second time at the end of their lives
It is not uncommon for generations to pass without the paper elephants
Sometime the periods between their journeys are so long the elephants are dissolved into folktale

The paper elephants are bestowed an almost supernatural quality
The stories are birthed in secrecy between the lights of candles
In the ears of the men in the corner
From the hushed lips whispered in acquiescence.
Every story is different
Every story has the same ending
Every story has the same moral
You do not touch the paper elephants

Perhaps the stories have some truth
If anyone knows the validity they have been dead for quite some time
No matter, man’s superstitious nature will see to the protection of the elephants

The paper elephants are called “paper elephants” because it describes them quite nicely
From a distance they look just like normal elephants
Lumbering over from side to side
But their skin is like paper
Their essence is like paper

They travel together
Even the old and young
When it rains the young hide under the larger elephants
Lest they get wet and melt into the earth
It is not uncommon to find the soaked remains of an elder elephant
Crumpled by a sad consequence
It always serves as a reminder
The old exist to protect the young

Most likely the elephants can be found roaming through our graveyards
Here their pace noticeably slows down
Often enough, they can be found sitting next to a tombstone
Resting their trunks over the epitaphs

Strange things happen when the elephants are in the graveyards
Sometimes laughter can be heard
Sometimes sobbing
As the elephants rest the blue mist rises from the graves

The blue is the most reassuring shade
The misty fog rises and fills the entire yard
Until it is absorbed by the paper elephants
With a long sigh the elephants continue their journey

After many such stops
The elephants arrive at the tree
Gnarled and ancient, it welcomes the elephants with silence
As it has for years and years past
It is here the elephants have yearned to arrive
Under the knobs and strikes of its branches
They bend the knee
The young watch to learn
The adults look up to the sky
And release all that they carry
The hopes, dream, and memories of those long gone
Ascend to the heavens
The paper elephants collapse exhausted but content
And look upon their children one last time
They weep before leaving this world
Not for their children’s sorrow
But because there are no paper elephants to carry them to the next world

Left foot walking faster than your right
With no one laying an eye on you but yourself
Razor rhetoric
The cost of your conscience
Who are you to say you are beneath god?
Cut with a stone
Blood dripping off an eyelash

On those cool summer nights
We would walk through the grass
And our feet would get wet from the dew
I know my companions
Ever faithful
Who would never leave my side
As I would never leave theirs
As we walked through the darkness
Ever resolute
Determined to accomplish our self appointed task
To spread our word
To teach others what we have discovered in these trying times
And most of all to learn from those who came before
So that we may do the same when our children come to us

Eventually we will part when we finish
And each will turn to a different corner of this world
Where we will live out the rest of our lives with what we have gained
Ever thoughtful
Always aware in the back of our minds
Of that important message
That brief quip of unadulterated human wisdom
Built up piece by piece over the years
Like adding a fresh coat of paint to a living room wall
Until it is thicker than the point where the sky meets the ocean
Ever adamant
We will count down the days until the clock strikes us
Lying in bed next to our husbands and wives
Or alone with nothing but our thoughts and fears

Someday we will meet again
After we leave all we have
Like an old photo slid between two pages of a good novel
We will have moved through our story
After we read the epilogue of our predecessors so long ago
Ever wary
Our cast has played their parts
And whether we realized it or not
So did we
We will go with a cry or a whimper
With tears streaming down our faces
Or laughter in our bellies
We will make no mistake
We will go
Ever obedient
When we realize our privilege to open our eyes
We see all those familiar faces
All the others who felt what we all feel sometime in our lives
Who saw what we must do if we are to grow into something beautiful
We will smile with hope that we did all we could
And begin to dry our feet

A flash of light with
One thousand tiny hands pounding the paneling of my door
The fireflies bow down in praise
A rush of hot breath
Dust left to fill in the gaps left behind
By the silence after the madness
And I still cut my hands
When I cover my ears

My mother and I went for a walk
On an autumn evening
Through the woods where our
Home was built
I ran off ahead
And you hid behind a tree

When I turned around you were gone
I yelled for you but saw no one
I shrieked through the tears
And you calmly stepped from nonexistence
Everything was right once more in the world
My flaky worries were old and dusty
And with a half smile you turned around
Before your hair could jump from your shoulder to your back
I happily ran up and took your hand
Forgetting about the momentous hurt placed on me
Touching me like bark on my fingertips
Reminding me of what I had learned

The end of a movie is the saddest part
The screen fades to black and you are
Left in the dark
Holding on to any meaning and warmth
You had collected while living out someone’s life
From the creation of a painfully short universe
Till its quiet end
The people in these places go about their lives
Unaware they will only continue
In the heads of others

I was laughing at a video
It felt as if a tiny flame was melting a hole
Through the cups of my ear
My torso pulsed with acidic warmth
The blood kept dripping in my ear
I lift my hand and put a finger to wipe it out
My hands were a chilly misty feeling as in spring
The top of my head wavered and hills formed over themselves
My eyes were deserts dusty and gray
My front teeth rattle with short ice
A close friend said he would never sing gain
And when he embraced this lie it was beautiful