Writing

In this whole world,

Snow and sun and metal and yet

You pick me?

Your favorite,

first in the morning and last at night

sometimes I think you’re foolish

the way you’ve placed me among the stars

A couple was shot in the city which I call home. Portland, Oregon. I learned the news right after I had gotten home from school. Had this really happened? Could it be true?

Why can’t we all just love each other?

Why does there have to be so much hate?

Can we ever learn to trust and accept those who are not like us or believe different things?

Claim your rocking chairs and
Your solipsistic sunsets,
But close your eyes and listen.
The cicadas have silenced, and listen!
Is it quiet?

How do we live 

Knowing others cannot?

How do we breathe 

Knowing our comfort is at the hands of hidden devastation?

How do we laugh

when all around us Tears seem to be the only logical response?

She carried around a lip gloss with her, reminiscent of jam and the fruits I used to eat in my youth. It appears darker in the bottle than on her lips, yet she says it is perfect the way it is.