pushed into a corner of history

where expectations

were born unto her

before she took her first breath

notions were dragged along her skin

in permanent ink

a map of where her life would go

respect was hers

as long as she stayed within the lines.



in the middle of an afternoon saturated with sunlight
my voice catches
pulling from the floor of my gut
are the words that refuse to be given volume –
to be given life.

when the light consumes me
i can forgive the quiet
it becomes a part of me.

it is in the shadows
that i am submerged in the noise
words clawing out of me
to be freed
from being stilled, silenced –
by all of that light.


i cry for answers

silently from the tops of mountains

snow-capped and untouched

the future – snow-capped and untouched

– feels as if it is being treaded upon

heavy boots printing patterns

across yet-to-be-defined paths

open and vast

stretches of something

far away

i cry for anything

but my cries are lost

in a vast something, which was

once snow-capped and untouched.

An Invisible Path

there is no right future
or wrong past
or regrettable present

these paths we find ourselves on are translucent.
The molecules shifting in and out of physical realms
failing to maintain any kind of consistency we
can hold in our aching hands for
more than the fleeting moment it
takes to look over our shoulder, and
return our gaze to the front – only to find
the scenery has betrayed our memory.

I have decided not to look forward or
to dwell in my footsteps, but rather set my sights
inward where the path cannot dictate which direction
my life should take. Where there are no
shades of right or wrong or regrettable.
Only a moment.
Only me.
Something I can trust.


Dragging cold graphite across balmy skin

never leaving its mark, too light to be seen with any contrast

Oh how the fine point curls and crawls

as it struggles to make an indent

Applying pressure, looking for a kind of proof

that will carry on

Showing, without a shadow of a doubt —

something was there.