Growth (Page 9)

A woman with black hair stands, eyes closed, with a large piece of black tape over her mouth. In the blurred background, protestors holding signs can be seen.

Silent No More. (an anaphoric poem)

The silence is over.
The time has now come,
where no longer fearful,
our voices ring clear.

[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.

People (thoughts)

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]. . .

A black and white close-up photo of a woman, in a white skirt and top, and a man, wearing jeans and no shirt, holding hands as they walk together.

The Sovereign State of Being (thoughts)

There is no part of me that belongs to another.

I choose to share at my own discretion.

[continue]. . .

Looking at the sun through a neutral lens filter for a camera.

The human condition (thoughts)

Are we capable of looking at others
through a lens unfiltered by judgment,
not colored by preconceptions?
Are we capable of unconditional love?

[continue]. . .

A garden of purple, pink, and white sweet pea flowers beside a trellis, with a single red rose blooming among them.

In silence she blooms (a poem)

The beauty of a rose,
wrapped tight within the vines,
upon my trellis waiting,
just waiting for her time.

Bursting open, petals stretch
unto the light of day.
Exploding colors all around,
for Spring has come to stay.

[continue]. . .

A damaged and rusty yellow and red road sign with a black illustration of a man digging with a shovel sits beside a road, alerting drivers to road work ahead. Beyond the sign, evidence of road work is seen: overturned dirt, a roadside orange caution cone with a wide white horizontal-stripe, and a crumpled section of orange and white caution tape.

A Work in Progress (a poem)

I am a work in progress,
unfinished, incomplete.
Each day I grow in knowledge,
most learned here on the street.

[continue]. . .

Paper cut-outs of people's arms and the Earth. Each of the pieces is wrinkled, and the arms overlap each other. The arms are cut from many different colors of paper, which is reflective of the diversity of the human race. The Earth is cut from blue and green papers. All of the hands are pointed inward, toward the Earth.

Differences (thoughts)

Life is serenely complicated.
Some people try to stand out,
and by doing so hope to fit in
with others who do the same.
Me, I never wanted to stand out,
to be different, but I am.
I guess we all are, in our own way,
different that is.

[continue]. . .

A young woman lies inside a large book, using a branch to prop it open, and reads by flashlight under a night sky.

Did I just have an epiphany? I think I did. (article)

I woke up around three o’clock in the morning, again.
This time it was with the realization that I,
or at least the characters in my stories,
live in the past.

(393 words)

[continue]. . .

An ancient warrior woman, wearing a copper and green helmet, holds a human skull in her hand and looks into its eyes.

The End

A short story about pride.

(674 words)

Black and white hand-drawn and inked artwork on fluorescent-green paper. A drawing of a young man (Cromwell Green) with his hands together in front of his face sits in front of a large moon. His forehead rests against his fists. Cromwell is dressed in black with three spiked wristbands on each wrist. His long, spiked hair hangs over his hands. His white eyes are devoid of pupils and irises.

inside (lyrics)

Cowering in fear
a life without meaning
my purpose in vain
exist without feeling

I turn up the music
to the threshold of pain
drown out the voices
all shackled in chains

Don’t know where to go
there’s nowhere to hide
’cause you can’t run
from the monster inside

[continue]. . .