David sat in his childhood room, the stack of letters trembling in his hands. Each one was a window into his mother’s heart—a heart he had taken for granted. Her words, so full of love and longing, cut through the years of silence between them.

He found a letter dated ten years earlier. It spoke of her hope to see him at Christmas. He hadn’t come that year. Another letter, written five years ag...

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Evelyn sat by the window, her frail hands clutching a pen. Outside, snow blanketed the empty street, muffling the world in silence. The house was still except for the faint ticking of a clock, marking moments that felt too long and too short all at once.

She stared at the blank sheet of paper on the desk before her. For years, she'd written to her son, David. She’d sent birthday cards, Christma...

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When will it go away?

The pain in my chest

Pain in my stomach

Pain. 

It’s repetitive and never stops

It creeps up on me like bugs

Stings like a wasp

Bites like a mosquito

And leaves, taking a small part of me

Some say it’s a part of life 

Maybe I don’t want that

If this is life 

Maybe I don’t want any p...

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I used to have a reason

to get up and fight for truth.

I used to have light in my eyes

to know I’d be with you.

I used to have a lot of things

but now all that I do -

is sit here alone, remembering home,

wishing I’d been true.

I used to have a family.

I used to have a home.

I used to have friends,

things I could call wins.

A foundation made of st...

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Sitting here thinking, another week gone.

Another small increment moved from the fire.

It feels like it does when you’re just waking up,

half grasping consciousness, half in the mire.

When you’re not quite sure if it’s real or a dream,

the one where no matter your efforts you fail.

In total frustration you claw just to move,

and in the struggle, you miss the details

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There’s a heart that beats

and a clock that chimes.

Moments pass as they both keep time.

Opportunities lost again.

Words don’t flow from an idle pen.

Deeds don’t come from an idle hand.

Seeds won’t grow in a barren land.

Something stalks me, something’s there.

Something haunts my every prayer.

Aggravation, life slips by.

Desperation, sleepless nights.

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No bird remains to sing his song.

so silence pounds the whole day long.

In beat with memory of the day

I clapped to make him go away.

The fault, it clearly lies with me

the bird was what the bird should be.

Now I live knowing I was wrong…

to want to silence any song.

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