The lights that flicker in the window
across the foggy sea
seem to whisper of the lives
That were always meant to be
The whispering of a lovers flame
The embers running slow
The fog of grief that seems to linger
Bringing in the cold
I once knew the woman
Who stoked a fire so bold  
But the home remains cold & empty
No jolly sailor bold
but light still flicker
Across the foggy sea
a little mantle to others
those who were never meant to be

Healing is not linear
I like to say as tears fall parallel
Why can’t I let that go
Loosen my grip
On the anger
The injustice
The lies
Why can’t I let that go
For every second that passes
Not the pain you caused
But that I let myself be pained
Over
And over
As the tears fall asymmetrically
Onto a tight fist
And his unopened letters

as she held the brush in her hand
at 3am
with nothing but candlelight to illuminate her tears
she found home
in the satisfaction of the strokes of her brush
the ease of the colours
splaying
as she burned alive
at the sight before her

there is something to behold
in women who scream
who feel
who revel
to cry in defiance with them
at the world
at the injustice

there is something to behold,
in women
by women
for women
of women.

if it was my turn to stand up
but I sat down
who do you look to first?
those standing before me, or those sitting behind me?

sometimes my bones forget
that being an artist
being a creator
is not having the ability to create something beautiful
to be marvelled at
it is simply
the cry
the urge
the fire so deeply churning
to produce
to recapture
to create

I can’t anymore
whether it be time a cross or sea
the fog makes it impossible to know
just where to leave
the words
for you
from me