She claimed the name “Captain Pipeye Twain,” a brat with a sailor's trunk.

She’s a Merchant's Marine from Skibareen, a-waiting in yonder bunk.

I played her card, and she rode me hard, whilst the night was warmed with rum,

But now tis day, and she won't a-way, 'til she's had another bump.

I don't mean rum, tis the other fun, needs trimming a-fore she sails,

But flood me scuppers, there’s no getting upwards, I’m withered by her gales.

A night in the throes of her mightiest blows, has me hull resting heavy and low,

just one more wink, and I’ll likely sink to the locker where Davey Jones dove.

But disdaining harm, I’m scraping me barnacle, hoping to “up“ the main-mast,

’Cause this must end, I’ll tell you friend, belowdecks is no place for a lass!

Once I asked myself

What's my greatest fear?

What am I afraid of the most?

Which terrifies me the most?

And

Answer immediately pops up:

It's life

Without

I have asthma.

Stay 6 feet away.

There's a pandemic.

Stay 6 feet away.

Hospital workers face unprecedented devastation at work every day.

Stay 6 feet away.

Many people are dying from this virus.

Stay 6 feet away.

Young and old are dying.

Stay 6 feet away.

Alsmost 145,000 deaths to date.

Stay 6 feet away.

Don't dismiss this.

Stay 6 feet away.

I have a young family.

Stay 6 feet away.

I'm in a high-risk group.

Stay 6 feet away.

I don't want to be 6 feet under.

Stay 6 feet away.

Air.

It lifts.

The air lifts.

Breathe.

Breathe deep.

Pull the cool, the clean,

down deep.

It’s clear.

Your sight is clear.

You see.

You see and relax.

Unravel and soak in the new details. New details that are not new.

They always were.

Now you can focus.

Focus with the lifting,

the cooling,

the cleaning,

the clearing,

the relaxing,

the unraveling.

Now you focus.

Three ingredients for life.

Rich, dark, slightly damp.

Dry, powdery, light.

Heavy, crunchy, rough.

Stir.

Bury.

Water.

Thrive.

My succulents.

I found the memories of a younger girl through the moments that I had once collected. She was sweet and forgiving without limitations, with a heart so heavy that it almost guaranteed neglect. I followed her through a complicated trek. One that looked so safe from any other angle then wherever it was that she stood. I watched her take a thousand steps in the wrong direction, and there was nothing quite like the way that it felt. Observing her journey down a path of self defeat. One that almost guaranteed her to suffer and inevitably struggle to survive. That’s the thing though. She did struggle, but she also did survive. Throughout those moments of complete and total loss of control, she began to get glimpses of who she truly was. No longer that same child, but still at an age too young to be so firmly forced to grow up. Her experiences began to make their impression upon her design. Leaving scars from the bad and giving light to the good. She’d been pushed into a place in which parts of her would get lost and never again be found. But that didn’t stop her. No, it only slowed her down. Causing her to take time to grieve the things that were gone, and to pray that what was left would be enough. Enough to prevail. Enough to succeed. Enough to make it anywhere else then where’d she’d been for so long. I was amazed by her. I was amazed by her strength. By her ability adapt. It seemed so natural for her to overcome the things that threatened her livelihood. She never stopped trying. She never stopped fighting. And though I don’t think that she realized what she was worth, she was worth more than the world to me.

She was worth it all.

Everything.

And I’m so grateful that she is me.

On Hoping

Dreams pave the path to possibilities.

***

Peace of Her Heart

She cloaks her past in fiction

Lead carves cyphered addiction

Redolent with pain’s perfusion

Breathes her soul, scarred by affliction

***

Free to Fly

Winning never happens when you fight the winds of change. Instead, extend your wings and fly toward what you’ve became.

***

You can’t put a price on happiness, but, you can sell out your soul to life’s sorrows.

Every night it’s the same.

His whispers of a slumber like melody on repeat in her ear.

Lies.

His voice speaking his truth all day:Everyday.

Rage. Hate. Vulgarity.

Then night comes…

His record softly putting her to sleep.

Almost the whole world is locked down. Everyone is frightened and worried. No one is certain about tomorrow. In this quarantine time period, past particularly mistakes flash back in our memories. The streaks of tears caused by us haunt us. Karma with its iron claws terrifies us. Our evil deeds laugh at us. We are praying for the well being of our loved ones but the little monsters hidden in us remind us of the hearts broken by us. But it is still not the ending. We still have time. So own your mistakes and learn from your mistakes. A world without any heinous plotting, heart shattering crimes and evil plannings would be far better.Think about it.