Don’t try to save her
She is singing in her head
Trapping the thoughts you said
Turning them to something beautiful instead
Don’t try to pull her away from the heaven that you call hell
For you don’t know in which hole your beauty fell
Don’t try to save her
She is singing in her head
Trapping the thoughts you said
Turning them to something beautiful instead
Don’t try to pull her away from the heaven that you call hell
For you don’t know in which hole your beauty fell
The creature crawled out of her book
And the painting stepped out of the frame
An unexpected visitor
The bird that sat on her window, it looked familiar as if it belonged to a different place
She can see that the city was not his place
Maybe he followed her train to where the trees don’t grow
Where the cars’ noises block the voices in her head
She can no longer hear her best friend—the inspiration
Looking out of her cold studio apartment’s window, she can’t see the stars
Her lover’s words resonate in her ears, he was right—she misses counting the bright pins in the sky
That yellow cheerful bird’s singing covered all the other noises around her
She wondered if he had been a messenger, if he carried a letter from The Pond for her
Although her apartment stood high above the man-made trails beneath
It was no match to the mountain she used to live on,
The broken kitchen counters that he’d promised to fix,
The cotton filled pillows, the wooden chair he proudly carved.
She closes her eyes humming with the bird, harmonies she once knew so well
She can smell it, the pond’s stench—what she hated and loved so much
But it escapes her before she can capture it; she wished to paint it on her pale grey wall
The memories were too old, and the paint has run dry.
I have witnessed a dictator’s death due to his own greed
Continue reading Optimistic View
I wonder if the sun ever misses the dark…
Does it know of what it’s missing?
She paints her mirror colors she wishes to see Continue reading The Child
I rejected it before I asked why it can not be Continue reading Lost Opportunity
Crawling out of the dark cave where I tend to hide
I hear noises
I see light
I force myself to open my eyes
The dead trees cried to me once
It is cold here
Help me—too big to have a shelter, too attached to my roots to move
The cold winters took away my loyal leaves
Left me with naked branches, lonely
Cover me…help me
But I didn’t hear them; I was too cold to pay attention
(By me, written March 2010)
There is music in my head
Ringing old words I have never read
Voices that say…