She always walked With trepidation Caution, kept her From using Her voice She never thought That her words mattered Nothing, held her But thinking Those thoughts She found herself Suddenly changed Her life, shifted Once she knew To speak For someone else
Creative Journal 2/18 I stare. At my hands, at the desk, at my reflection. I stare out the window and I wonder, where will I go? I stare, trapped where I am by myself. Trapped by comfort just as much as fear. What if I can’t come back, what if I don’t like where IContinue reading “Stare”
Every step, I take Serves to clear A path For the smaller, Footsteps That follow Behind
His voice was soft, the words spoken gently, as if he was afraid to startle her. As if she might bolt out the door at any higher a decibel. Mary looked up slowly at the man standing across from her. It almost didn’t feel real.
Our lives were the sum of all our moments, weren’t they? Not just the ones that hurt, or the ones we weren’t proud of.
She walks- Like poetry Slipping, Through time Painting the world With a whisper Of what could be
I litter the ground with seeds As I walk, Through life Hoping that some take root And come back, For me