Ever know a person
who can’t      let go of the past
    in their head it eats away
what they think      they should have.
How deeply
              words can hurt
when hardened by jealous tone
words stemmed from
                  contempt
       can cut deep to the bone.
The past is the past       for a reason
let it stay
where it’s meant to stay
move on
from what you think       is yours
     make way for better days.
Show happiness
for others  
even       when it’s hard to do
believe it or not
it helps you      become a better you.
You can’t change
what was never         meant to be
but you can embrace
what you have in life        but
only if you set your thoughts
       of entitlements free.
                Don’t let yourself get caught up
      in the negativity      brewing in your head
  move on and enjoy     what you have in life
                         let others do the same
focus on what tomorrow will bring instead.
There is power         in words
     and when used in kind
     can comfort and sooth
a tortured     heart, soul and mind.
   So watch     what you say
       and just how you do
for some other sharp tongue
      might just attack you.

Alone and afraid
she huddles against the wall,
please don’t let him find me
not this time, I wasn’t bad at all.

Hands reach down
grab her by the hair,
she feels the first hit
there’s pain everywhere.

She cries out loud
but nobody hears,
and if they did
it fell on deaf ears.

Left bruised and bleeding
laying on the floor,
all because she forgot
to lock the front door.

She’s all alone
in pain and full of fear,
why won’t anyone help her
does no body hear?.

She’s seven years old
her life a living hell,
and not one neighbor
will pick up the phone and tell.
~

~And she flies to a place where she’s loved~

We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.

years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.