She was one of
The few who
Dared to follow
Her dreams,
Leaving herself
Vulnerable to
Being judged by
People who never
Had the courage to
Be themselves.
Original injury
Dictating everything
They do.
Never a moment of
Self-reflection,
Contemplation.
Living
Moment to moment,
Unaware.
Anger, fear, sadness,
Triumvirate of
Misery.
They were taken aback when
The child spoke freely,
Unencumbered by strictures,
Joyfully sharing his experience.
It felt strange, uncomfortable
To them, but only until they
Realized he had been
Given the gift of a voice.
Waking up with yet another ache,
Making coffee,
Looking at the trees,
Wondering how many more days are left
And what happens after it all.
A breeze makes its appearance,
Proof that all is in motion,
Nothing ever stands still.
On hold for a long time,
Hoping for relief,
Getting none,
Wondering what’s next
When there are no options
And time is of the essence.
Leave a message,
Hope for a call back,
Repeat the process.
He always has a
False narrative
Playing in his head,
Protecting him from reality,
Shielding him from
The things he’d rather not look at,
And who he’s become.
It was never going to
Go her way.
An abrupt,
Blunt realization.
It seemed so simple:
Feel for someone else.
No empathy forthcoming,
Just coldness.
Discarded when no longer
Feeding the pathology.
Rejected, unneeded,
Wondrous opportunities appear.
Hoping something would change
After all these years,
But it doesn’t and
Likely never will,
The need to hide
Vulnerability
More powerful than
Any other thing,
A pervasive lie
Buttressed by people
Caught in its grip.
All they know is
Selfishness,
Unable to understand or
Care in any way about
The plight of others,
A hollow existence
Reeking of fear and pain,
Bewildered, suspicious, alone.
