Found Lost

This water 
Why has no one before written warnings
Charted out the crevices filled with lore of the depths
As if we we born old-soul seafarers
As if
We should walk on water together
A little 

A Poem Found Me

 What?

I wait motionless in silence, hearing nothing but the brush of my hair against the pillow fabric and the casual whirr of traffic beyond the window glass.

I expect the Earth to shake.

Or that waters will well up.

Shall fire sweep in with the wind?

Even still, I prize the void.

(Art credit: “Sacred Rectangle” rock formation; Tiger R., age 7)

Wet

A little wet, a little shallow, but aren’t we all, us puddles

A universe, of salt and depth, but aren’t we all, us seas 

Reflecting light and gath’ring warmth, we flutter and we crash

We sustain life, we refresh souls, immerse yourself in We

*Writing Prompt: Short, Autobiographical Story*

“Aqua Is My Learning Color”

I don’t remember much about Before except for all of it. And there was much good there…playing school, playing house, playing Lisa. But there was always the wishing…for calm, for kindness, for a Spanish guitar. 

The time came, as it always, always will: Make a choice. Choose open eyes. Desire trust, peace and hope over only wishing. 

The sting of tears comes more often than I’d thought it could. Learning does also. Learning to trust oneself and learning that peace is always present for the taking and giving. And Hope – the damned, beautiful Thing – it’s all I’m made of and it refuses to leave or be rationalized away. 

I saw prettiness today. Its name is Lisa. Its name is Everywhere. And I sent for The guitar. Somehow water was involved.