Bruised Shins

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I am forced to rip things
Right from the ceiling
Things that like the ceiling
Should never have been

I am forced to face flowers
Bleeding on skin
Flowers in need of new skin
Injected with pinpricks of hope

I am forced to my knees
On ground that is strong
Knees by the habit made strong
Despite the bruised shins

Conceding That

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I was mistaken

Or put most precisely

I misunderstood

The who or the why or the what of that hand

That hand that reached out

And I may have gasped

How long without air, it is too hard to say 

But now I’ve this shirt

With no known owner

It skulks in the back while it whispers an “If”

In an up shade of blue that has stolen my eyes 

So my soul lurches outward 

Screaming “There was no “If””

Take your comfort in knowing that soon it shall find

Stranger skin on an island of Hope 

Gold

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I struggle to know
If, as a girl,
I always did just the right things

I shutter to think
When I grew up tall
That none of it mattered at all

I listen to learn
If time will whisper
I needn’t have any regrets

I wait and wonder
If the caring I shared
Imprinted my name on gold stone

is gold

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I’ve prayed glitter
For your path 
A pattern-spray that looks
Like plans had for you 
Before you graced this place
The underneath that is
Paved with acorns and amber oak leaves
Covered with new fallen snow

Like To Sing

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I’ll ever have hope
I see what that makes me 
Looking through these eyes I’m giv’n

It means I can’t reject magic or
Dismiss mystery in 
People surrounding me

It makes me forever 
A prisoner tucked quietly in
Grey rooms watching the wind

I am eyes poised ahead
Seeing all that makes me
I’ll ever have hope

Still, Soft Search

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Four corners I’ve found
Flat, hard, sharp, square
I dig in, grasping, despite the glare
Emptying
It would appear
It is for naught 
And not my style
I let go, hoping, because the song 
Singing
The world must be softer than this