Blackness seeping into the dark crooks of the basement.

the voices above me confined, secretive, whispering.

Underneath, the steel feel of protection, the torched feeling of depression.

The security of darkness, the fear of light.

Stairs creak, still black nothing to see. The warmth of soup dribbles down my throat.


raw from persecution.

“It’s safe” hushes rises out from above me.

I rise stretching my plank legs.

Thundering up  the stairs, my feet are solid stiff.

The Door

The breeze hits me,

Looking up there’s a


Bare sticks yet


Complex, free air, moving, swaying through the sky.


The nightly sky weaves through the branches

The bark protecting the inner core

safe, comfort, security

Branches encircling freely around the tree.

Dawn cracks through blackness, I turn around.

The tree stands strong,

Relinquished from the care of humans.

Maybe one day that will be


%d bloggers like this: