Writing

The sting of hate, countless lives lost: death.

It is true; we have forgotten parlous strife!

Endowed with life, eager to neglect.

In a beautiful bundle

Of fresh red roses,

Does anyone notice

The one that is withering?

In a perfect sky

Full of bright, twinkling stars,

I’m learning that one letter

Can make all the difference;

One letter, or

The lack thereof

Could burn down a dream or

Allow it to flourish;

Editor's Note: This painting, Crossing Familiar Waters, is the March winner of The Tomorrow Project's monthly contests. 

When the air finally lets go, 

it whispers secrets in soft sighs

of thawing Earth and blooming hope, 

where winter’s hush gently dies. 

It is a terrible thing when 

democracy

kindness

peace

is taken away.

I think it must be almost worse when that pain becomes dull a 

Bruise

That won’t go away.