Change (Page 9)

A close-up of a dust-covered, dirty computer keyboard.

My mom used to write letters at the end of each year, to keep friends and family up to date on the happenings in our family.

I hadn’t written any poetry in a while. So, in the middle of the night, I wrote a little update letter of my own.

[continue]. . .

A whitetail deer doe is walking through the water, across a small pond.

The clarity I seek is regarding how to remain calm
amidst the storms swirling round about me,
how to be of help and live compassionately
towards those in most dire need,
those who may not appreciate or understand
the choices I make each day.

(1,108 words)

[continue]. . .

Library reading room. Empty wooden swivel chair at wooden library table with book open on the table. Glasses on top of book. Wooden bookcases with blurred bindings of colorful books behind table and chair. A steak knife lies on the floor nearby.

TW: Suicide

I feel my chest heave as I walk through the kitchen.
Heavy breath, warm and wet.
My pace deliberate, pronounced.

Cold steel grazes my neck, awakening memories.

[continue]. . .

A monochrome image of two Icelandic sheep standing face to face, one is black and the other white. The only color in the image is in the sheep's eyes—the black sheep's eyes are brown and the white sheep's are gold and green.

Those with whom we surround ourselves
tend to define our worth.
Sometimes it is through their words,
and other times by our own comparisons.
Each time we share a bit of ourselves
we give them more power,
for that is what trust is, power.
The power to lift up.
The power to crush.

[continue]. . .