Where do the words go when I need them most? Probably the same place my supposed friends, and my family go. When words do arrive, they taste of sulfur and acid. My stomach turns at their presence as I curse the night and more so the interminable day. I feel the anguish, pain, and sadness, building to the inevitable explosion at the most inopportune moment.

Of course. Strength, endurance, hope and faith are heading for the door. Sure, why not? Cowards.

There is a dip on the other side of the bed.

A towel in the bath that still smells of you.

A favorite bowl in the kitchen.

The mandatory hot sauce on the table.

Reminders of what was and should still be.

All of Thee.

All of We.

Now only Me.

#sadagain

WHY?

why does Love die?

why does hope abandon?

WHERE?

where does love grow?

where does hope abide?

HOW?

how do i find new Love?

how do i nurture hope?

WHEN?

when will Love stay?

when will hope sustain?

WHO?

who will love me true?

who will show me hope?

My heart wants to pour itself out onto the page, while my mind screams “STOP!” My heart needs the release while my mind fears the reaction of others, the danger of pain from their recrimination, or worse yet their rejection. Now I write my thousandth poem, hundredth story, and twentieth screed. I hand it to my mind to publish, knowing it will only hit SAVE... and let it rot in some folder forever.

Resolved and yet so very unresolved.

The words refuse.

jumbled, tumbling,

swirling and crashing.

Desperate I struggle,

searching, reaching,

failing, and dying.

Release me words,

relieve, soothe,

free me, save me.

again.

She stood resolute her whole life, against every voice that warned her to mind her place, stay in her lane, or to manage her expectations more realistically.

She ignored the naysayers, not because they were wrong, but because she knew no other way to live life. Each milestone merely a place to take a deep breath and look ahead.

She climbed mountains others declared off limits to her ilk, then looked around for a new mountain, a broader sea, or darker night to conquer.

She refused to climb over or drive through others in her path, instead dragging them along with her, encouraging, and cajoling them, to reach deep for inner strength and hope.

She accepted accolades, prizes, and trophies, graciously, then put them in the attic and moved on. She quietly declared they were never the reason.

She acknowledge her past and it's pain and struggles, but never became their victim or slave. Instead she used them as incentive and motivation.

She rests now, in well deserved peace, covered in honor and glory. Her battle may be over, but her legacy will shine forever. She lives in all of us. We are her legacy.

She.

I stood behind you,

held your hand,

dried your tears,

Loved you.

Time healed your wounds,

gave you hope,

lifted your wings,

moved you.

I watched as you flew,

skies so blue,

at least...

I loved you.

the singer sings,

the writer writes,

the lover loves,

the hater hates,

the heart breaks,

the heart heals,

the earth turns,

still.

I finished burying love,

it’s attendant sorrow,

and loss.

I turned my back on hope,

so undependable,

and weak.

I heard the familiar ding,

a sudden rush of hope,

and love.

I know I will bury both,

foolish love and fickle hope,

again.

and again.

and again.