Struggle (Page 6)

A plain gold wedding Ring sits upright between two curved pages in an open Bible. Back lighting creates a shadow in the shape of a heart, which extends into the crease.

I feel you (a poem)

The tilt of your head, the lilt in your voice, the look in your eyes, I don’t have a choice. The words that you say, the ones that you don’t, the volumes unspoken, it’s clear that you won’t.

[continue]. . .

A man preparing to drive a white, painted finishing nail into a board with a hammer while his left hand supports the nail. A ladder, shop benches and tools are visible in the background.

The Earring

In 1984, I decided to pierce my left ear. I did it myself with a bag of ice, a sterilized needle, and a bar of soap.

(492 words)

[read]
. . .

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

Blink (a poem)

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

[continue]. . .

Side view of an upset female student wearing jeans and a lavender hoodie. Sitting on an outdoor cement stairway, she leans against the wall beside it, her hands holding the side of her head in anguish.

Invisible (an acrostic poem)

I’m the invisible girl, nobody knows exists, visible only to myself. I shrink from view, strategically blending into the background.

[continue]. . .

From less than a foot away, a man wearing black-framed glasses, a white dress shirt, and a red bow tie shouts through a loudspeaker at a woman wearing a flowered top, causing her hair to fly backward from the force of the sound.

One Voice (an anaphoric poem)

One voice. One mind. One nation. One people, divided.

[continue]. . .

A shattered shop window shows signs of an attempted burglary.

Help (a poem)

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

[continue]. . .

A still life photo of a medieval sword and hauberk. A steel sword, with leather-wrapped handle lies atop a piece of chainmail armor. A red reflection in the blade and hilt of the well-worn sword appears as though it was bloodied in battle before being laid down.

I am (a poem)

I am a hero to some, a villain to others. A friend and an enemy, all in one breath.

[continue]. . .

A cool-toned photo of human arms, with chains wrapped around their wrists, hands raised above a crowd. The chain between their wrists is breaking, expressing the message of gained freedom through fight.

Liberty, expanded (speech)

Liberty is having agency over one’s own destiny and decisions. Liberty cannot truly exist without the ability to govern what happens to and with one’s own body.

(2,739 words)

[continue]. . .