In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others.
I can push everything into the dark.But it leaves me empty.And the dark always ends up finding me in my sleep
It was quite a beautiful thing, the way we simply just came to be, with no effort or trying and slowly we found each other’s hands in the dark. No chains or promises, just a simple sign of hope
that things will go on and get better
and that things and people and views are still out there, yet to be found.
You are a cool cemetery.
You have the sinner’s grave
You have the saint’s earth
You have all the beds
narrow as a knife;
as if a rally of tombstones to defend death.
But you can’t really postpone
the inauguration of my burial,
From the poem – Few Words to Cemetery
How would I feel about hearing that the plague killed another nearby village a month later? Didn’t I tell you stupidity is the eighth sin?
Excerpt From: Cameron Jace. “.
His breathing was heavy, and full of life. He shivered still, his hand finding Katty unsteady and unprepared of what was going to come next.
“I hurt you!
In the forestlichen writhes and assembles itself into signs to light my path through the deep dark north shadow; and I emerge at last onto a hillside strewn with logogrammatic stones, and scramble away from spruce tops.” in the poem “Beyond the Beacon” from Terra Affirmative.
The only time you’ve been under me is when I’ve been inside of you and even then, you’re never truly under me. I always remain under you.
When i believe in everything, I could not see
the actors semicircled around a studio microphone
flipping the pages of scripts in unison.
I only heard the voices, resonant, electric, adult,
accusing each other of murder.
You can only diffuse light in dark places.