Back in the
Day life
Felt better,
Burdens lighter,
Friendships tighter.
Was life really
Better then?
Or does time
Write fictitious
Fantasies?
We reflect
With nostalgic eyes,
But reality reveals why
Life was simpler;
Our charges lighter.
Hidden hands
Bore weighty burdens
Lightening life—
Our parents’ battles
Remain unseen.
Friendships faded,
Weathered by time.
Victims of change?
Or did life’s paths
Simply diverge?
We cannot return
Back to the days
That never were.
Perfect pasts
Don’t exist.
I was once called a rose,Yes, a rose, while we wereSitting in a garden,Overgrown with wild grass and weeds.The flowers, clinging to thorny branches,Craved waterTo quench their abusive thirst.Red, yellow, and pink petalsCurling, ready to crumble. Silence lingeredLonger than expectedAfter the comparison.Crickets sang the distantChorus under a crescent moon. “I just can’tFigureYouOut,”Her wordsTo breakThe silence….
Blindlyshouting shameenflamed by fire and brimstonepreacher’s heat consumes raging crowdhearts stone deaf and blind
I need a photograph to preserve this moment in my memory book, but I am on the highway–traveling east–the nearest off ramp miles away.
I can’t conceiveNow’s our timeTo whisperGoodbye,Adiós. We just met mereMoments, three days—Now,My fire for youFlamesFiercely Like the pepperyPulseOf local fare,Your zestful spiritSpurs my ceaseless Craving Yet, I must move,ReturnTo a lifeLaden with contracts,Crammed Compulsions I know not if againOur paths will cross,But you now dwell,A steadfast spark,WithinSoul
“Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14 I Do Not to raise me upbut to remain grounded,planted,knees kneeling,rememberingwe fallfrequently. Prayer’s powerisn’t in praisingbut in pausing,breathing betweenhurtingand healing. Faith’s foundationisn’t in knowingbut in loving,living His truth,living mine,giving lovenot proof. Do We Mean It? This isn’t just something I’ve noticed. It’s an…
Picture this: dunes, boy, unquenched thirst.Eyes blur; distant waters tease tongue.Wind whispers secrets; sand shifts beneath.Vulture’s shadow crosses death’s scorched stretch.Airy cry calls “turn around, child.”Footprints merge, sand swallows; path unclaimed.