These scraps of paper were what was leftover from a project I had done. I think the journey is just as beautiful and important as the final product. The behind the scenes, what goes unspoken and unseen, the excess and the tools needed are all part of art and are all part of us as individuals and as collectives.
Posted in response to the challenge Winter 2026 Art Contest.
fallen ashes, soot-covered letters
little bullets fly through
stained missing pieces
slices through
throat tightens
swirling, racing, losing hope
gently, seeds fold into the ground
peace lilies blooming
Recuerdo cuando mis pies tocan la arena
cuando los cangrejos me dan cosquillas
Busque los recuerdos y los hallé
En el puesto del sol
Cuando se acuesta por el día
Mi portóncito
My little gate that swings me across the same arc across the tile patio floor;
the cold metal gray bars pressed to my face, hanging on to
Mi portóncito- the one taking me home
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