Unsaid by Caitlin Conway

The soft breeze whispers in my ear
Telling me that on these waters there’s nothing to fear
Lines of ribbons composed of bark sway overhead
Their canopy encloses my secrets of things better left unsaid
As I take a sip of nature’s sweet nectar
I am now my own protector
Memories wash over me and the past beckons
But I will not return aside from the weakness in these passing seconds
Thoughts swirl through the howling hollows
I’m all alone when no living soul follows
But perhaps that’s for the better
I’m not sure how anyone could understand this ever changing letter
Lightly lay my head down on this soft turf
Sometimes the only solace is in mother earth
Her flying children sing soft songs to me
Their fleeting whistles a chorus in limbo, I wish I were that free
A drop of rain falls onto my cheek
Curious how mother cries
It seems she knows her future is bleak
So sad that such a small number of her children are her allies
But then, as her soft breath whispers in my ear
I know that both of us have nothing and everything to fear
Sun rays fall over my skin
And in that warmth I am forgiven of my sins
For it is the clouds overhead where I can place my trust
There pure puffy simplicity turns my worries to dust
And as they float away on the cool breeze
The lines of ribbons composed of bark sway overhead
And their canopy encloses my secrets of things better left unsaid

Anchor by Jane Trunk

an anchor
strong and stationed.
not wavering in the wind
or swaying in the sea.
just sitting, waiting
for someone to call for
an anchor
stable and secure,
always ready nor fearful
of the unknown.

it is an anchor
I never had.
it is an anchor
you stole from me
the day you walked out.
it is an anchor
i still long for.

The Face by Sherri Thompson

On a day like any other in a house just about the same as any other, in the playroom on the second floor she could be found. In the same computer chair, before the same television, playing and watching. Day after day. All the same.

What more could she do? What more did she care to do? There was only so much time left. How much she did not know. Nobody quite knew. There had been estimates but none had been accurate yet.

The day was rainy and gray, the room darkened by nature’s sour mood. She liked it that way. On sunny days she had to close the curtains so any possibility of glare on her precious television would be zero. The rain came down in alternating patterns of heavy torrents and lighter, steady drizzles. At the moment she could hear the finger-like pattering on the roof and the dull gurgle of the gutter as the rushing water attempted to squeeze by the dead, rotting leaves lodged in the small tunnel. Honey, her favorite cat, rubbed up against her leg and meowed loudly. She absent-mindedly reached down and felt for her, running her hand a few times along her back to her tail, the fur soft beneath her palm. After a few strokes she always lost interest and waited until the cat did also.

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