Hope (Page 2)

The glow of a distant city beneath a desert sky full of stars.

i am the words i speak, i’m the things i do, i’m not how i look, or the things i accrue. you try to define me with the simplest of words but i’m far beyond that, though you think it absurd.

[continue]. . .

An empty, snow-covered, arctic winter landscape; a snowy desert field with a person walking away toward a blue sky at the horizon.

It’s winter again, it’s snowing outside, and my soul is as dry as my hands. A frozen wasteland, no less of a desert. My heart is parched like the sands.

[continue]. . .

A reclusive girl, in a red dress, sitting alone on a lone rock in the middle of a river, in the early morning

Everything’s already been said. There’s nothing left to say. Everything’s been heard and read. There’s nothing left today.

[continue]. . .

Black, plastic letters spelling out "ASK MY PRONOUNS" on a reusable, wood-framed square sign, nestled on a wrinkled rainbow PRIDE flag.

I hope you will join me in this act of solidarity as I stand up for those who are being forced to assimilate with a societal construct that does not fit them or reflect their lived experience.

(377 words)

[continue]. . .

A golden background highlights a dandelion field at sunset. In the foreground, a dandelion releases its seeds to float on the wind. Two immature dandelion buds are unfocused but visible behind it.

What if words were free to fly, untamed by the pages that held them? What if they had a life of their own and were allowed free expression without constraint, without intentionality?

[continue]. . .

A close-up photo of the right side of the front of a redheaded caucasian woman's face with her eye closed, blinking.

An hour lasts forever. A lifetime’s just a blink. The time it takes to get there is never what you think.

[continue]. . .

A shattered shop window shows signs of an attempted burglary.

The bullies carried baseball bats wrapped in chain and tape. Now they use both laws and lies to hit us with their hate.

[continue]. . .