#79

 Hostage to the coulds and shoulds

I grapple with the reality

that is,

preferring the multiverse.

#78

 quietly and gently

the Whisper rises

stronger than the waves

brighter than the fire

and more revealing than the light.

This peace,

this perfect peace,

cuts deeper than the pain

and sears with healing.

#77

 I want to grieve,

to wallow and rest in this sadness.

My soul lacks space for anything

smaller than this grief.

There isn't the room to talk about anything

and I haven't the desire to be happy, just yet.

I am looking, I am longing for those who will sit

and rest

and weep with me instead of demanding space for

their otherness.

Am I selfish?

Sure.

I am also grieving.

#76

 It's quiet, I guess-- 

The kind of background noise that blurs altogether

like a conversation on the TV in the next room over

or the steady whir of the refrigerator and the semis on the freeway

that kind of rhythm you accept that will never be

silent.

Resting here in the middle of the waves,

I am sad.

I am tired,

I am lonely,

I am angry, too.

But overall, I am deeply,

profoundly,

sad.