Healing

how long does healing take,
which matters more:
the size of the wound
or its location,
what if it's on the heart,

those wounds on the heart
hurt the hardest,
and stay the longest,
lingering in the scars formed
over these deepest of wounds,

perhaps in time they'll fade,
though never so far
they can't be plucked
back from memory;
we'll never forget
they are what made us
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Seasons Change

the memory of summer 
becomes more distant
as fall imposes a firmer hand;
the vibrant greens
shift to muddied yellows;
do not be fooled
by the fiery rainbows in the trees,
look to the ground:
the dying season is upon us;

spring will come again,
its green brightness followed
by the golden suns of summer,
Nature's promise: hope -
so too in the varied winters of life
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The Right Words

too often these days
there aren't the right words
to describe the emptiness -
the gutting that leaves us hollowed out
questioning all we thought we knew -
as the horror of living 
strikes so close to home;

what do words matter
when we feel impotent to impact change,
when our lives are held hostage
by those who see only themselves in power,
when the only ones that make sense are:
"why does this keep happening"

until we find a way to change -
to make ourselves heard -
we'll always be inadequate,
searching for the right words
to make sense
of senseless pain
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