[innocent girl]

so take this walk with me -

[an innocent child cries sadly for she is no one]

through the thousands of strands of withered grass,

hand in hand, little soul, see the light reflecting off your heart:

look up and there's the angels sharing light with you

don't be scared. take this walk with me. ~


going through what is left of some of my poetry as a little girl, i was terrified to read one of my lines as a 12 year old girl. "an innocent child cries sadly for she is no one." ... so this post is me talking to me about me. everything's gonna be alright. poor thing.

[is it enough?]

stronger than before
and i dont owe you;

just another chance,
a chance to show you.

i know.
i know.

enough, we've both done so much
to show you, done so much to hold you;

to keep this,
even then, even now,

i hold my breath for now.~

i'll always remember paul squires: his prosepoemthingys, Continuing Diaspora (the first of his i read), that my name goes down in the history of his blog (click here); and all the continuing support i got from this faithful blog friend. this is for you,

[free]

spun out of all their is to drive.
to try,
i write, and pass along what living is to die:

free.
all it is is free.

i.m. me and we'll chat on living and being, and trying;
and dying free.

God speed friend Squires, God speed. ~

[boxes]

fit within the lines of the most restrained

harsh black definitions, and contrary white.



cant stretch my limbs out of these walls,

i'm tied to the cross of their tucked away faults.



and in this resurrection, i'm just me-

gray and dying and alive.



ill-defined and well from the limb of this tree,

i drink from a God who mercifully, mercifully feeds me; keeps me; leads me:



free.~

[the music]

facing down and to the left,
i avert my eyes to what is left;
signature in the peripheral:
an infinite shore, home, bound, toward
what is left:
a deliberate softness in the keys,
in harmony with my beach; steps, prints.
wind hits;
hints of what is left.~