is a burden

so heavy,

you cannot

move forward

while you carry it;

it’s hard enough

to walk

when you’re


in your steps —

how can we

expect to

move at all

while we look



(How do you overcome times of shame?)

On the Future

I hope

you never

ask me

how you look.

How ridiculous

is it

going to be


” like my future”

comes out

before I can

stop it?

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XVII

You are a radiant paradox,

making me to

cherish the memory

of the past

and the potential

of the future,

being the calm

in my storm

and the storm

in my calm.