Whatever you do give it 110% Father’s words whirl, confuse, belittle ambiguous, at best, attainment remote I am not enough Good, better, best, never let
A two-story, red brick set on the edge of town was our castle, tall cedars, like a moat, separating us from unwanted onlookers Strategically placed
Daylight softens and my lens twitches to follow the birds into the brush to a pond where green water ripples, exposes the presence of beaver,
We sail, determined, and yet, the destination is not of our choosing, charted by memories and the inadequacy of words, language faltering in foreign depths.
This rage – this storm, waves crashing against walls impenetrable I am ice, unforgiving, unrepentant, wounded thrashing against a beast unwittingly played by you We
Is death a gentle reprieve, a final release of suffering a promised resting place? Or is it contemplation coloured by memories demanding retribution? Will death