Category: Poetry

I set out to write
about breaking 
and being broken,
but the March sky is cloudless,
the spring sun strong,
and my heart full –
today there is no room
for pained memory,
there is just
this moment.

light fog sits thick
atop an empty field, stained
with the night's tears;
its blades bent under
the weight of their sadness,
waiting for the first rays
of sunlight to cut
through the mist
and loosen the muscles
of their bent backs,
releasing them to stand straight
and carry their burdens
unbowed by the night's cares -
basking in the glow of the sun.

Misunderstood on the outside
my own path I wander
at times - all alone - I ponder
stepping aside, avoiding the ride

to the safe haven of conformity.
It is my path, and I walk alone
though fear shakes the marrow bone
I know I'm free, so I flee

to a place within this world
where it costs nothing to think
and one is free to scuffle and slink,
curled in on oneself, waiting to be unfurled

in the whipping wind of white hot
confidence that comes from strength
and hope - a sliver at arm's length -
we have not left our dreams to rot

by wandering this path alone.