I hate how easily
my heart turns a moment
into a catastrophe.
How a silence becomes abandonment,
a small disagreement becomes goodbye,
and one unanswered message
becomes proof that I was never enough.
I wish I could feel less.
Not because I don’t want to love,
but because sometimes loving
feels like standing barefoot
in the middle of broken glass.
I get angry.
I get scared.
I say things I don’t mean
because I don’t know how to say
please don’t leave me.
And then I am alone with my thoughts,
turning every word against myself,
calling myself stupid
for having a heart
that refuses to be quiet.
But maybe I am not broken.
Maybe I am simply learning
that feeling deeply
doesn’t make me impossible to love.
Maybe I can be intense
and still be gentle.
Vulnerable
and still be strong.
Maybe someday
I will stop confusing
being afraid of losing someone
with already having lost them.
And tonight,
instead of punishing myself
for feeling too much,
I will let the feeling pass.
I will stay.
I will breathe.
And I will remind myself
that one difficult moment
does not get to decide
who I am.
The rain is pouring, it's the afternoon.
My soul is weeping, till the truth comes
alive. I keep the secrets inside, that
are trying to hide, but they come
alive.
aquatic palace
world of fins and scales
and shiny fish hooks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first glance, the pond is glass~
a stolen mirror, holding sky.
No wind, no ripple, no trespass
of sound. Only the patient eye
of water, deep and undisturbed.
Then—a pebble,
small, but sharp
breaks the skin sending circles
spiraling outward in frantic motion,
each one a question asked too loudly.
Next a leaf falls~
brown and brittle
gliding quietly across
the pond’s surface, murmuring.
The pond swallows it whole.
Later, a storm:
rain needles stitch chaos
into the skin of the water,
a thousand interruptions,
a thousand tiny wounds.
But below~
where light bends and surrenders,
where the cold is a constant companion~
nothing moves.
The dark is still and stoic.
The deep does not answer.
And when the storm tires,
when the pebble sinks,
when the leaf dissolves into silt~
the pond remembers how to hold the sky
without trembling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first glance, the pond is glass~
a stolen mirror, holding sky.
No wind, no ripple, no trespass
of sound. Only the patient eye
of water, deep and undisturbed.
Then—a pebble,
small, but sharp
breaks the skin sending circles
spiraling outward in frantic motion,
each one a question asked too loudly.
Next a leaf falls~
brown and brittle
gliding quietly across
the pond’s surface, murmuring.
The pond swallows it whole.
Later, a storm:
rain needles stitch chaos
into the skin of the water,
a thousand interruptions,
a thousand tiny wounds.
But below~
where light bends and surrenders,
where the cold is a constant companion~
nothing moves.
The dark is still and stoic.
The deep does not answer.
And when the storm tires,
when the pebble sinks,
when the leaf dissolves into silt~
the pond remembers how to hold the sky
without trembling.
Below The Surface
Drowning in self doubt
Edge of darkness
I’m out of breath
Submerged and drenched
I’ve lost my way
My purpose is fading
Porcelain translucent
Find me in the dark
I’m fragile as a feather
I just wanted a second chance
Did I say something wrong?
I’m anchored to the bottom
With unfiltered thoughts
My heart is hollow
Reach out for me
I’m just trying to say I’m sorry
It’s cold and alone in complete isolation
All wait for you down here
Forgive me from all the pain I caused
There's only one way and that is up
Forgiveness can go along way
Like two souls flying freely
Surface living;
Delving with thought
Shallow inclined; no further
A beetle's truth-quester
One inch, mould-wrought!
The infinite
And what, behind
Its night-hung veil, bespangled
For souls of men have wrangled
Light's, dark's winged grind
A mystery
Left. With relief!
Which strain, high, deep prying mind's
But exceeded by those finds;
Mail's o'ercharged grief!
I thought about eternity
I felt it I tasted it
Smoke from the inferno
Stung my eyes
Burned my throat
Lightening flashes revealed
Angels guiding my path
Through the tears
In the distant night
Stars shone brightly
I exhaled my life
Like clear water
Filtered through limestone
Bluffs
Nourishing
New
Life
On a planet far away
01/12/26
Freedom got sick, just one innovatian at a
Time.. Now time disencourages a removal
Of the hardware..As economics encourage
The removal of the beneficiaries..? Of the
Conveniences once intended to make them free.'
I wish I could breathe underwater,
But not to explore the sea.
I just enjoy the comfort,
It feels like where I should be.
Below the surface is quiet,
No voices can be heard.
The water always settles,
Even after it stirred.
When I rise above the water,
My exposed skin shivers from the cold,
But as I sink back down again,
warmth breaks me through it’s threshold.
I can swim freely,
I can do what I please
Though I prefer the depths;
The ones where no one sees.
But I am not built for that
I know I can’t stay,
I will surely drown,
But life underwater seems better that way.
Our life walks quietly across the surface of time leaving soft marks no memory dares to keep we touch the world but never fully stay like water resting briefly on open hands every breath carries a borrowed meaning every step repeats an ancient question what remains after the voice grows silent when the heart learns the weight of absence we live between beginning and return suspended in moments we cannot hold time watches us without judgment and the surface closes as if we were never there.
You’d think it would need to be soft,
but I’m built for that hard surface.
Complex will not make me nervous,
you ground my fierce feelings aloft.
Others may have giggled or scoffed
not you, you just embraced my fear.
Now knowing that love will be here
a resting place for my heart thrives.
When more than the passion survives?
That’s when our bond is crystal clear.
The surface of the lake, a polished glass, reflects the waiting sky.
Barely a ripple breathes until it passes, begs in want, silence rose the reply.
Hidden reeds where a tune unfurls, a sleepy song of water kisses the stone,
as it was born in the ancient world, a transient, deep, harmonic, and internal tone.
Bliss is the sound that essence hears, soothingly ponders, when there is nothing left to crave;
hence, the slow erosion of all the fears, bathes in the murmur of a hidden wave.
A dulcet splendor embraces the tamed life, in want of a vibrant flare,
while gathering semblances of their former slept source, spirits touch a gleaming care.
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye,
still of that quiet water, so clear, so deep, the soul finds promises it meant to keep, reasons why?
Have you ever been struck so hard by life
that the world flickers
black spots, little stars
as though the sea itself blinked?
Equilibrium lost, I staggered in the tide,
face to the sky, gasping salt and air.
"Get up. Show up. Speak up,"
the current whispered.
Nothing hits harder than living.
The road is never set
it twists beneath us like sand in motion.
And those you called friends?
They change like waves
smiling until the pull drags them elsewhere.
Were they ever anchored,
or did they simply use me to stay afloat?
Their kindness wrapped in cunning,
their warmth a mirage above the reef.
I never saw it coming
I never saw you coming.
Now when I think of you,
I see not a person, but a shadow,
a dark fin slicing through trust.
Promises made, promises broken
you swore you could never cut so deep.
But you did.
You cut me loose,
left me to drown
and in that drowning,
I learned to breathe anew.
Pushing the envelope outside the box
if only here to accentuate
the many ways in which
emu may emulate
by delivering nutrients' benefits
and what's more
help repair with anti-aging hydrate
yet won't clog your pores
they herd the birds in a mob
not a troublesome job or task
with ladle fire pit pot and hob
'How is it collected?' I hear you ask
as allegedly good for the skin
anti-inflammatory emu oil
is scooped off the bubbling surface
when they're brought to the boil
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