Poetry

We have planted our seeds in soft soil

but then the droughts came

and the soil hardened

cracked

turned on our seeds

and what was once a garden is now a deathbed

shriveled up

seemingly hopeless

as I stumble out of the truck, I look up

and I start thinking 

and I just can’t stop

as I gaze into the Milky Way

I can’t help but notice 

Sand runs down 
and into the chasms below. 

Gone.

If you could 
turn back time, 
you would go back to that day 
when she was playing 
in the pool. 

I-

I     wish-

I wish         I-

I wish I             was-

The clock is broken

It stopped ticking a long time ago

stopped counting how much time has passed.

It's an old grandfather clock, oak wood, and sculpted to perfection

carefully crafted by hands

that belonged to men

You’re pretty like sunshine and roses

But also like orchids in moonlight

Like water reflecting the sky

Like tired nights when the wind heaves a sigh

There are 

two roads

under the weight 

of war:

one paved in iron 

and blood,

brutality met 

leaves let go

each one a page ripped out of summer's book

each one a memory that hasn't been remembered since 1969

each one a fragment of what was 

why care? they say.

Astronomy room.
post storm; window open; wet. 
cooling Earth soaked air.

Can I-

intrude into your fantasy?

Can I tell you a shocking truth?

Can I become everything you hate

so that I can love myself?

Can I dream of a job with impactful meaning

i’m aware of what

feels like an

unbreakable addiction,

but i try

and i try

and i try

as i ironically agree

with every instagram reel

saying phones

are ruining this world

the leaves will start falling soon

and the ground will crunch under my feet

and i'll stop and stare 

forget where i am going 

pull out my phone and snap 

a million photos of the trees