poetry

There’s something about the light crashing against the walls, or maybe it’s the way her sheets lie on the floor, the way scattered textbooks bleed into the carpet, the way her

Faded doors, Faded lives. Hearts will always sacrifice The things we want, The things we need, And at the end, Our hearts impede This lie we live Of up and down And all

I’m looking back, As I oft do when thinking of you And I wonder, Are you remembering those times, too? If I asked you, what would you say? I’m looking back,

Still here a child of the mud and meadow With sunshine curls and eyes of darkest pine There’s one from whom our hopes and dreams will grow. With feet that dance unclad

I’m not sure how long I’ve been at it— Walking aimlessly for miles, Straying further and further away From the oasis of your embrace. With no real reason to escape More

I would give you all the stars in my eyes. I would weave you silks from my hair, And build you palaces of my bones In the midst of forests grown from my

I sought the Lord, and He found me. How can I fear the rain? My foundation is secure.

We mourn because the world is broken. The deserts and the forests, all cracked, fissured in the fixture, a vessel split and leaking blood and oil into the water, the air, the soil, the valleys, the heights.

You could say I’m sad: Sad for all the friends I could have made, All the wonders I could have felt. Sad for all the smiles I could have seen, All the days I could have loved.

You think that you can knock me down Cut my flesh and break my bones. Bury me into the ground Left to rot under your feet.

One for the wicked and heinous king Two for his vile, cold-hearted queen

He’s so in love with all the things I hate most about myself I always wished I could be more like the girls on my shelf.

Girl in blue,There’s a pressure in you—Let it out.All the little things you’ve built up,All the big things you’ve been hiding—Let them free.

Though he rarely laughed, his eyes did often, so as I stood silent over his coffin, tears filled mine.

Here’s something nice I want to say: I’m blessed to watch you on your way On down this path to Glory, Humbly

She struggled to death’s dying door, But not for her—for you. Your frame was growing day by day. She had to act—she knew.

To you I hear the oak tree call In seasons plagued with death. In winter and in colored fall The leaves long for your breath.

Blacker than the River Styx Dark, in daylight flies; Moonless night, flitting, winks,Glossy to the eyes But -

I watch them run away from me— “They’ll not come back.” –I know. Can someone help me find the piece That leads me to myself?

After he died everything changed. Us twelve children left fatherless, our bank accounts a total mess, and mother’s cheeks, all tear-streak stained.