Don't tell me to Be Brave, again, as if courage is instinct for half of us and Learned Behavior for XX chromosomes alone. As if my going out is not its own defiant act And my speaking: Bold, Direct is not akin to wielding the sword. Don't tell me Courage is: holding my tongue and … Continue reading “Be Brave”
poetry
What Else?
When you're 27 and your friends are 78, or 82 - you either Accept your fate: Your friends are going to die, or What Else? This is the only Truth that persists: You are young and people die. And your death doesn't matter, so much. It's not that - it's this: It will never make … Continue reading What Else?
Dying
When it's my time I want to know: what it feels like There are opportunities for second chances, but this isn't one. I want to know what it was like, before the morphine drip, dripping And the rockabye easing out I woke up in the world screaming What is it like to end?
frost bitten
You'll be kind and never lose your temper and no one will misunderstand your jokes. You'll wake up early and listen to the mourning dove sing dooo dooo do-do-do low-high calling the new day good. You'll always have spare change for the panhandler at his median … Continue reading frost bitten
do not take
The earth moves Did you know? It pulses with intention. Birds free fall in aerial feats The hive hums The dry leaves whisper their ancient chant And we, We move, too Building, working, fighting, dreaming - not always with intention. But noise, always noise. The earth knows - do you? Our performative toiling is Being, a … Continue reading do not take
untitled
Let me die in the summertime by a window, with the warmth, pushing through the fragile skin of my eyelids Let me die in a quiet room; with the tea kettle on in the kitchen and the laundry spinning, pulsing like blood through beating hearts. Let me die with a cat at my feet and … Continue reading untitled
prayer
A smile between strangers. Watching the robin hunt for insects, folding three loads of laundry, dropping boiling water into the teapot. Writing in your journal, listening to your spouse, sharing: a meal, a ride, Your load. A cool breeze that cuts through humid air. The clack of boots on asphalt. Going, and leaving. Habit and … Continue reading prayer
contented senses
Contentment looks like a sleeping mouse and an old oak tree Contentment feels like a knit wool blanket in grass green sprawled out on your unmade bed. Contentment tastes like mashed potatoes and buttered whole grain toast Contentment sounds like crickets and summer rain Contentment smells like a warm cup of earl gray at 4 … Continue reading contented senses
Leah Wise 