Lost Stories (3)

I am the product of regret; I am the legacy of guilt, I am the shadows and the mud, I am the way my life was built I am the sum of all my fears, I am the paths I chose, and choose -- The worn precarious holder of A lot to lose

Lost Stories (2)

At eight years old, a dynamo: A Supergirl, a CEO, A scientist, a diplomat, An artist and an acrobat -- At eighteen, still, a power plant: A lioness, a Federal grant, A lover and a covert spy, A reason and an alibi -- At twenty-eight, a marvel yet, An adjective, an epithet, A story told … Continue reading "Lost Stories (2)"

Lost Stories (1)

The house was made of wood and mold, The floor of dust and timber, She lived in it as she grew old, But she stayed limber By bending back into the years Of power and of glory; Between what’s felt and what appears Lives every story — Within the heart that reaches out, Within the … Continue reading "Lost Stories (1)"

One Rise (2)

She always jumped from relationships, Feeling that the better people knew her The less likely they’d love her. Maybe you know that feeling. But eventually, There was no one left to jump to. Walking gingerly through a haunted existence, Smiles flickering at best — Standing outside at sunrise, She holds what warmth she can close … Continue reading "One Rise (2)"

One Rise (1)

Married to the chaos, nights of secrets and regret, dreams of mazes within gardens, noise and clamor ringing, crashing, burning — How do we wake from years of torpor? Where do go to find ourselves? We must bathe in the prism of a new sunrise, remembering our missteps and our sorrows, for these provide the … Continue reading "One Rise (1)"

Glimpses (5)

The storm was beautiful, but she was full of everything but fear; That evening feels like yesterday, Though it was yesteryear — How fresh the snow when we are fresh, how wondrous when we’re wondering — How strange the storm seems now withal the distant thunderingIs she the girl of yesterday? The woman of tomorrow? … Continue reading "Glimpses (5)"

Glimpses (4)

His mother was an absentee, His father, an explorer — He grew beneath a dying tree, Both up, and poorer — Now autumn sings out in the woods, As winter comes a-calling; He’s got the cans, but not the goods, And more than leaves are falling — We live, because we’re born to live, But … Continue reading "Glimpses (4)"

Glimpses (3)

If you didn’t know him,How could you really know me?Because he still moves you now,Like wind through a tree

Glimpses (2)

She was authentic, always,In her fervor and her clumsiness;Broken down and cold in hope,A warm lead and a red-hot messA neverland of wondering,A bucketful of joy:Another day’s determination No one canDestroy