Sparkly rain boots stomped into puddles
Little wisps of her brown hair fell from her braids
It was a dreary day
But for a three year old, it was a perfect day
She woke that morning like she did most mornings
Disheveled and running
The energy of nine normal people balled into one small figure
Three inches from her mother’s nose, she loudly pronounced, “Mommy!”
Eyes half closed and a bit startl...
In your arms, I found my home.
You held me at your heart, so tender.
This moment of joy is so surreal.
How is it I will never remember?
The room surrounding is cold and vast.
So different from where I came
But with a stroke of my face as you sing to me
It resembles much the same.
Embraced at last, waiting all these months
But I’ve known your touch forever.
The melody as you hum soothes me
And...
Their eyes connected, but hers were that of a stranger. Still, warmth radiated from the stare. As she pulled herself upright, two legs wobbling with uncertainty of the soil’s stability, she did not look away from her. What had she done?
Kaya and the elders made no sound, trembling beneath their paws at the sight before them. Awena had leapt into the iridecent pool of water in search of a miracle...
The pages brown and crisp turn
Careful to read what the scroll will unfold
When despair meets opportunity
And all the noise surrounding falls silent
Mesmerized by the glow and the power
To combine and create and bend reality
Give in to the desire
Become the unimaginable
Beauty, time, luck and awe
Clouding reason, soon too strong
Swift to mix another batch
Flawed, but still indulged
Grotesque ...
It’s Tuesday, I think. To be honest I’m still half asleep and wish we had another week of winter break. I step off the mud-snow soaked bus steps, taking one earbud out. I can hear Peyton’s feet crunch on the salted sidewalk behind me, trying to catch up so we can see who got better Christmas presents. Probably him. Not much of a competition since his dad works in tech and my parents just run the l...
We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger.
Where the footsteps of our children give hope for a better future.
A future of compassion and collaboration and living in truth.
But the footprints of ghosts linger still on the ground.
The masses shout “progress!” in hushed little voices.
While the past bellows through the few in bolsterous choices.
Red with hate, blue with silence.
Wh...
