-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
I sit alone at the table eyeing the empty seat. “Shouldn’t he be here already? There is nothing else to do.” A ripple of energy runs through my thigh, bouncing my knee in anticipation. The steady rate of my heart vibrates in tune with jitters flogging my mind. What is one to do or to
Share with me one more chance. I just want you. Have a conversation, with a final, last goodbye, About anything and everything you now know. Realizing how much I dream of this moment, Only makes me understand how I miss you. Never did this pain get easier or go away. Before I have another nightmare
Okay then what do we do? What is the first step to take? That’s the question I asked you. For the progress you want me to make. You said we have to try, Trial and error to figure it out, But you don’t understand that I Can’t try without knowing what about. What’s the first
I remember a fact, signed in a pact, In which all the world said “Time to pack and don’t come back Until they are all dead.” A story of war, one we’ve heard before, Where we believed we were right. But the vitality in the reality, Saw nothing more than a bloody night. For what
Inspired by the novel “The Best We Could Do” by Thi Bui We stand alone, Our hearts cold. Brought together To be torn apart. Absent of normalcy Our family built on the blood Of the lives around us Starving and poor Under the weight of communism. There is no freedom Where there is no hope
the sun aflame hung high above a subtle blaze grazing my surface a peaceful moment overwhelmed squinting in the presence of her bliss lost in the panic of life’s demands I long for a chance of tranquility owned and defined by the deadlines I hope that peace can be with me time is short so
The black knights ride their steeds, And the hooves kick up the dirt. The village is lit afire and the screams, Ring throughout the night. Shouting and yelling stings the air, And fear burns our nostrils. The world around us is anarchy, Our flesh burned in sync. We have fallen far from grace, And live
A rose, flush loose petals, Reaching towards the light. A gentle breeze dances Across her leafy blight. Fiber by fiber torn away, Dwindled by a standard. One so carefully instilled, With every whispered word. No longer in touch, With what is natural, Blinded by hatred, And far from factual. Wilted by the cold, From life
A twinkle in her glassy pupils, Sparkles when she looks at me. Older and wiser now, But still sprung in her mind. Calmer with age, But no less beautiful, Than the day we first met. I wonder what she thinks of us, Now; does she still see, The little girl I was? Could she still
Sy Redemption 