Invisible Change


Change is all we have to fear.

The fear of change is the root cause of evil.

What do you think? Let me know in the comments


Friday Fiction

When I was a little girl I pressed my nose against the glass of my dad’s old Volkswagen as we passed under bridges in the city. I puffed great smokey blasts of fog to draw little hearts and “hellos” in as the sleeping men tossed in their bags.

“Dad, why don’t we help them?”
“They have to help themselves first.”

There was a woman beneath the bridge today snapping pictures of our homeless communities. Preserving our tents and bags in rough black and white photos for exhibit.

“Don’t you want to help yourself?”

I hear they feed you in jail.


And Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

Noisy Journal Writing


This is stuff I found written in an old journal. I typed it up here but never published so it’s been hanging out as a draft for about a year.

How many tears have you cried
Waiting for mine?
Twist your bones, peel away
Scars of old, open on their own.
You’ve always been alone
Watching the world in slow motion.
You’ve never heard the screams
Even when they were your own.

Twist the knife
Ever slow
Make me yours
Take it by force
Worse than hate
Is the apathy
Push me down
Make me feel

I’ll lay in the mud
Face down
Just to make me feel
Twist the knife
Cut just right

I remember the way you feel
In my dreams
Slow and deliberate
Why didn’t you speak?
Why didn’t we speak?

The buzzing is loud.
There are a thousand flies on one body alone.
Not counting the thousands more,
Bodies I mean.
It’s done, in a blaze of glory,
The world was razed.
Now it’s ready.
All the flies,
Swarming a blank slate.
The buzzing drowns everything else out.
I can’t hear you scream,
I’m too busy watching the world burn.
Not that we ever cared anyway.
Not that you ever cared anyway.
Tell me a thousand lies,
One for every fly.
Give me just one reason.
Not that you ever cared anyway.

Check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

Suddenly Is All We’ll Ever Be


Suddenly is all we ever were.
Suddenly friends, lovers, soul mates.
Suddenly alone in the night and in our fight.
We always said “you and me”,
Two against the world.
But the world kept spinning
While our story crumbled between our fingers.
Suddenly I’m lost
In your eyes and smile.
Suddenly I can’t breathe when you look at me.
Suddenly is all we’ll ever be.
Spinning, spinning and we all fall down.

There’s lovely poetry at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch this week, go check it out

Blue Doors

Blue doors stoic against white washed summer walls
What awaits me beyond those carefully curated wooden walls?
Are there candles aglow or choirs angelic?
A return to life which withstood pandemics?
Were every role played
Within the confines of finite memory?
Perhaps there awaits all which we’ve lost.
Tears shed over damp sheets
And fresh mounds of dirt;
Carefully sculpted castles for our bones.
For once I may say, we’ll never truly know.
As my ornate blue doors slide into the distance,
The way our true love fades
From your memories and words,
Meant for another, promised over sun bleached summer days.

A little story time to go with this little poem.

When I was a snotty pre-teen, maybe around 11 or 12, I was giving my mom a hard time as we drove home. I don’t remember about what, it doesn’t matter really but it was a moment for her that unleashed something else. Without saying much she swung her old minivan into the parking lot of a mixed Korean/Baptist church at the end of our street and started crying.

“Maybe one day I just won’t come home.”

I didn’t know how to react. I kept telling her it would be ok but what I really remember is that we were parked right in front of the church doors.

Looking back I’m fairly sure my mom probably suffered from the same anxiety and depression that now plagues me and my sisters in various forms. Coupled with the weight of my narcissistic father’s constant cruelty and I’m certain this wasn’t her only breaking point.

It may not have been a breaking point at all but more of a blip on the radar of constant pressure to provide when the one you’ve promised to walk beside has more or less declared “jokes on you”.

Today’s International Women’s Day and I’ve seen posts all over social media remembering and celebrating accomplishments. That’s wonderful, I embrace it. I also ask that we not forget about the women who are dragging themselves out of bed everyday simply because they have to. The women who have laid awake all night threatened by their own nightmares and now have little people depending on them to function. The women who have gently laid dreams aside or practice them quietly after hours because there’s simply no one else to “bring home the bacon” and the dreams they have aren’t to that point yet. The women who have found themselves trapped and unable to leave for fear, so they trudge through every day the best they can while pretending everything is ok.

Society has come far but society still has a way to go.

Daily Prompt – Uncompromising

Cotton on the Breeze


Picture book pages flip in the wind,
Like flimsy fabric ripping against the trees.
These memories fall victim,
Pictures of life we may never see again.
They fly from our fingers much too fast.
If I’m unable to grasp
The color of your eyes
Or gentle waves in your hair …
If your fingers slip from mine
Before I can feel them slide
Along my sides …
If these memories begin to evade,
Should they slide away like cotton in the breeze …
Let me tell you before they’re gone,
Just one more time.