I have crossed enough borders
to know that countries are only arguments
between one horizon and another,
and passports are maps of suspicion.
I have slept beneath unfamiliar ceilings,
learned the manners of borrowed cities,
drunk coffee whose names I could pronounce
but never quite understood.
Everywhere, civilisation offered me a chair—
provided I knew which fork to use,
when to applaud, when to remain silent,
and how convincingly to pretend I belonged.
But somewhere between the opera houses
and the roadside stalls, between philosophy
and the cheap wisdom of tired men,
I began to suspect the traveller was the destination.
So I returned carrying no souvenirs,
only the uncomfortable knowledge
that home had been following me all along—
and I had mistaken its footsteps for mine.
Friends
by Frank Daub
It was an open door
that, without sound,
called me in.
I stood with hesitation until I realized my sin
of never trusting.
I reckoned, in the human-only-way,
that such a friendly looking door
could only be surprise demand
of meeting expectations.
I saw only with my eyes
and not my soul.
Yet without entering through that threshold,
I somehow realized
That I could not be whole
enough to love.
Outside I waited, long enough
to shake the fear and take the chance
that there are friends inside,
friends to bring me song and dance,
to bring me dreams
to tell me stories of loving.
I entered then,
And enter every chance that comes,
To meet and sing and dance,
To know that I am home.
I want to be loved
without words or response,
to be held
in respect and sweet nonchalance.
Oh, to be seen
by the wounds on my heart,
understood
the way one understands art.
I want to be touched
the way paper meets pen,
gently written on
again and again.
I want to be sheltered
like a bulletproof vest—
to have a place
where I can finally rest.
I want to belong
like a fish in the sea.
I want to be wanted
for simply being me.
You open your mouth
And my breath comes out
My heart spilled on your chest
I know what happens next
Fingers intertwine
I’ll let you blur the line
We’ve synced our hand watches, our breathes,
Our time and upward motions
Our souls whisper and kiss
Linguistics meet their stand in
Looks and tells, a longing, dripping cheeks
A hum, a nod, a wink to God
Publicly known words replaced with privately-owned sounds
So as not to water down
What’s already been found
‘For the message is foolishness to those who are perishing’
All valuable things are done in secret
Secret tongues, intertwine
I’ll let you blur the line
We’re getting by,
year by moment
Unblinded and defiant, I asked you to carve your name into my skin
I’m under the covers, inside your chest
Blood pumps and beats,
Whispering vows breath-soft in morse code
You’re always running a beat behind mine
The New Favorite
She looks great in my clothes, atleast that's what everybody says,
Like I wasn't the reason they noticed them in the first place.
She laughs with all my friends like she's always belonged,
I hate that she fits in so fast where it took me so long.
She wears my sweater like she's discovered something rare,
And I spend the whole night pretending I don't care.
She says the same things I used to and somehow they sound brand new,
But maybe everything hits different when it's not coming from you.
And I hate the girl I become whenever she walks in,
Like confidence is something only one of us can win.
And maybe that's the difference that took me years to learn,
She's wearing what I wore, but she can't be the person that i am.
I've spent so long worrying that she's going to take everything from me, that I forgot the one thing she can never have: the person I became because of it.
Winter kisses the doorstep
with a quiet smile in icy depths;
branches bow low, as if nodding my return,
while frost tiptoes on the windows.
Smoke curls like an embrace—
I breathe it in: warm welcome Home .
A scavenger was invited to
The land of preservation
The breath of life
Gave him shelter and food.
Alongside his peers,
The fortress of beasts
Shielded him from the elements—
Stepping outside to
Repay their benevolence.
This scavenger returns,
Looking for an answer...
To the grass trampled underfoot,
Leaves plucked without thought,
Fruits are severed from branches.
How is it possible that
Those who came to this world first—
Let us,
The ones who only take
Still upright among them?
The serenity that comes,
As if spread over eternity—
Is all I need to hear...
A blessing for us is
A price they've paid to stay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning light folds around me,
wind learns the rhythm I breathe,
earth makes room for who I am~
I belong at last.
I want to go home —
my heart aches for belonging.
But where is home?
Can a man truly be homeless?
I take flight, running,
to the place I once called mine.
But the gates refuse to let me past —
for a house is not a home.
I knock and pound upon the door,
yet no one comes to answer.
I hear their laughter echo within —
for a house is not a home.
Painfully it dawns on me,
I’m not welcome where I was born.
Perhaps it’s time to rise from the ashes,
Find a heart that will love my weary soul,
and build — not just a house, but a home.
As I cruised down the road to nowhere,
the cool breeze rushed past my window.
Trees danced in a hurried retreat,
while birds sang together in harmony.
The scenery mirrored the place I once belonged,
memories of my childhood flickering like ghosts.
Tears welled, clouding my weary eyes,
as my heart ached for home.
I should have been home yesterday.
But home isn’t a place—
home is someone,
home is people.
Yet, I had no one waiting,
only me and my broken heart.
One day, I will find home.
But for now...
I'll just keep driving.
I walked along,
the Columbia river -
only to find
missing pieces of myself.
The lamb's ear
that was so simple
and soft
to touch
While I was walking
I was thinking-
about grief and how
it makes you, you
is it a prayer, or an answer?
or self-reflection
With my mind
wandering, about the world
and where I belong
I kept walking
Last night my son stirred
between half wake and sleep.
I stroked his soft hair,
And I kissed his small cheek.
He said, “Mummy, these cuddles
tonight were the best”
and wished for forever
with him in our nest.
When a baby arrives
through the heart of their mother,
they’re laid on your chest —
you belong to each other.
There’s no room for choices,
for burnout or fear.
Your instinct is roaring:
just keep them near.
But life slowly loosens
the threads as they grow.
Your heart doesn’t want to,
your mind must let go.
They trust other people,
They want to explore.
New voices will teach them —
And guard every door.
When the nights feel too quiet,
the silence too deep,
I’ll remember that whisper
between half wake and sleep —
how he held me so close
in his small dreaming world,
and for one perfect moment,
love quietly unfurled.
Last uphill stretch homeward bound
Smoke from the chimney in the distance
that tingling sensation of belonging
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Which comes first?
asked Justice Sage
of Peaceful Muse
Divinely inspired Peace
or Humanely expired Passion?
For amusing organic bodies
inspiring sage minds
perspiring pronoia purposes
While DivineSage minds
worship HumaneMuse bodies
anticipating deep sacred meanings
Unveil organic unitarian Muse
purposes flowing toward
prevailing universal sacred Sage
meaningful peace forms
Pronoia Gaia's hypothetical paradox
Gnostic God's metaphysical orthodox
How could SageMind remember anticipating
organically resilient purpose
without MuseBody religiously conjoining
sacredly resonant meaning?
Why would democratically organic bodies
reproduce belonging
autocratically irreligious minds
seduce longing
For sacred AnthroSage inspiring Peace
love songs refueling
Organic EarthMuse perspiring Passion
justice dances restoring
Which sacred longing first
comes organic belonging last?
asked peace perspiring MuseBody
inspiring SageMind passions.
Keeping our romance,
We belong together, Love
Fusing mortal souls.
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