They say without darkness, there can be no light—
But how can the two exist so close together?
How can the most destructive, unforgiving weather
Give way, in a heartbeat, to a bird taking flight?
One moment, despair stretches endlessly,
The next, a giggle rises, warm in your chest;
And somehow you dare to believe for the best,
As highs turn to lows, then rise again like the sea.
How can a heart feel hollow, yet still overflow,
How can tears fall freely while laughter breaks through?
How can the weight of the world feel crushingly true,
Yet a sliver of sunlight still teach you to glow?
Perhaps joy isn't proof that the darkness has gone,
Perhaps both can breathe in the space of one soul;
Perhaps broken and beautiful can make someone whole,
And morning can bloom while the night lingers on.
question burning, cries
answer me before I cool
urgency insists
quickness passes for wisdom
deep thought waits outside the door
paper catches fire
while we search for the answer
ash erases words
haste thins what truth might have said
the quick answer lies ill-formed
the hotter questions
leave far less time to answer
asking feeds the fire
burning time on more questions
until doubt devours the clock
fire lights up the words
bright enough for us to read
while it eats the page
what fire destroys can still speak
through embers buried in ash
time is not the clock
for time itself is the flame
it burns while we ask
what became of our answer
left in ashes asking why
People gather in the crimson heat
For summer adventures when they meet.
Their chaos release,
But I like my peace
Writing in my poetry book - sweet!
When I was young
For 25 years in my twenties, thirties and forties
I lived off grid up in the hills
And we hillbillies all thought ourselves
Superior to the valley dwellers.
Looking back now, I’m not exactly sure why,
But I think it had something to do
With having a better view and a harsher lifestyle.
Now I live in the valley
And I know it’s superior for a variety of reasons
Grid power, unlimited water and proximity to groceries
Being high on the list.
I see those hillbillies for what they are
Proud with their poverty and disadvantage
And inherent ignorance
Because I was one once,
And know what it’s like to have nothing else.
Somehow the world is easily reduced
To these two sides;
Hardship and comfort
And the pride which accompanies each.
(8/9/25)
The More Selfish
The Sacrifice,
The Better For
Everything...
In Darkness,
Or In Light.
So, What's
Illuminating
The Darkness?
Over There?
-Gray Squirrel
07-20-2026
A mother’s love is both gentle and strong.
A guiding light throughout our lives. Through sleepless nights and quiet tears, she stands beside us through the years. Her hands have toiled, her heart has prayed, in every sacrifice she has made. With gentle words and wisdom true, she shapes our lives in all we do. She gives us strength when we are weak, and her voice is calm when we seek the answers. A steady anchor, firm and sure, Her love is deep, rich, and pure. When storms arise and shadows fall, A mother’s faith outshines them all. She trusts in God and leads the way, lifting our hearts when we lose our way. No crown she wears, no throne in sight, Yet she shines with heaven’s light. Her love reflects God’s grace above— A living gift, a mother’s love. So on this day, with grateful hearts, We honor you for all that you are. For all you’ve done and all you do, A world of thanks belongs to you.
I have paint stains on my blue shirt
my jeans have holes in both knees
I look like I am homeless
said the old man into the breeze
the breeze gave a hearty laugh
you’re right in style, honey
Let me show you a fashion graph
knee hole jeans cost real money
Midst nostalgic bliss yon reminiscence fervor
my mind does savor young love-thrills from heart's abyss
as throw-back endeavor re-creates love story I can't miss...
though we must choose academic aegis over infatuation's favor.
You and I forged our partnership with promises of "forever-we-are-one" creed
and constant letters of endearment midst caring deed brightened our relationship
yet, our parents' lead and family's breed prevailed along their wise workmanship...
so we yielded to their stewardship, assured of "let's wait for right time indeed."
Our separation with cooling-off strain was inevitable
since struggles so undeniable burst along agonizing pain
yet goals of attainable stature stood upon priorities' terrain...
driving us with faith's gain to conquer teen-age feelings fiercely insurmountable.
Now, I am thankful that it was and is best that we have separated ways
as we pursued our individual race toward triumphant crest
each at our own pace, both of us freely soared upward maturity zest...
allowing us to see each other blest; you with your family; me in God's ministerial grace.
We both know
That we are not
Made for each other
It is very sad
That has to end
This away
We had hurt
Each other badly
Fighting all the time
I will not worry
About you anymore
You will find
Somebody that will
Love you
Better than I did you
We don't have anymore
Feelings for each other
Also we don't have feelings
Anymore for each other
.
with such thuh beauty
az front my
for uh moment
even less
imagine mine lift
hern
up
'bove mine see
imagine her tearz
splash splash
splash
'pon mine visage
mine cheeks
az my pled
'wilth thee
me
wed'
I asked you to dance with me
To ‘Both Sides Now’
by Joni Mitchell.
You didn’t have a choice.
That is what I do to you
when I am feeling romantic
and in love with my husband.
The Christmas tree is still up
in mid-January.
It is more luminous to look at
and reflect on after Christmas is over.
Now, there is time and space
for eccentricities,
especially mine.
Ben is embarrassed when we dance
in our slow circles
of middle-aged parents.
He went to play the trumpet
in his room.
He closed his door
which made both of us laugh.
The moment meant more
with the cacophony of music
and feeling
when we were laughing.
And our dog looked at us
with a bored expression
from her couch.
Daphne, our dog,
was enjoying her old-lady leisure.
I told you:
“honey, don’t forget this.”
i burned my candle from both ends
and then complained
about the dark.
couldn’t tell night from day—
just a long hallway
with bad lighting
and worse memories.
the clock kept lying.
the mirror too.
through the wall
the magpies talked—
not poetry,
just the usual report:
pain,
someone elses suffering,
rent due,
another body giving up before it should.
I listened
because what else was there to do.
maybe it was madness,
maybe wisdom with a tight fist.
hard to say
when you’ve trimmed the wick
from both ends
and called it living.
I wanted more light
without paying the cost.
that’s the trick
that never works.
now I’m tired.
not heroic tired—
just used up,
like a matchbook
with one good strike left.
so I’ll take a nap.
let the smoke settle.
and when I see you—
keeper of the flame—
don’t lecture me.
you know
I burned bright
because I didn’t know
how not to.
sometimes
that’s all a man has and a good woman can only watch.
here there
nights poets
pair share
rare care
Through two narrow slits,
light photons unfurl as waves
with interference—
when watched they harden to points,
but unseen they share a swim.
So too for our selves
form and shadow share one skin—
defined, undefined
we change masks under glances,
being shaped by who's watching.
Our many-held selves,
playful, solemn, split by gaze
actors in context—
only under scrutiny
are we firm focused solid.
Both Shone Bright
A lone pine
upon icy incline
wishing for its stardom to come true
but knowing that wish did not contain pure value
A silly wish but one never knows what thoughts do
A bright star, shining alone in night
saw pine and sparkled light
both shone bright
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