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The storm came early,
before I had learned the names of winds,
before I knew
that silence could howl.
Still, I rise.

They spoke in fractures—
breaking dreams like glass
and stepping over the glinting remains
with clean shoes.
Still, I rise.

I was told to fold—
to press myself into something smaller,
softer,
less.
But fire has no interest
in shrinking.
Still, I rise.

Under the weight of doubt,
I did not disappear.
I grew roots instead—
tangled, unpretty,
deep.
Still, I rise.

Even when the mirrors lied,
even when the days cracked open
without promise,
I gathered myself
in pieces if I had to.
Still, I rise.

Not because I never fell—
but because I chose
again and again
to stand.
Still, I rise.
Some mornings,
I still hear you—
not in sound,
but in the silence
you used to fill.
You were a rhythm
on the hardwood floor,
a sigh beneath the window,
a heartbeat I didn't know
I had memorized.
Your collar lies in a drawer now,
but I leave it slightly open—
as if memory needs room to breathe.
I walk past the leash,
still coiled like a question,
and for a moment
I forget
you’re not waiting by the door.
Grief is strange—
it sits like a bowl
left out
long after the water's gone,
still expecting the sound
of your tongue lapping life
from the edges.
But some days,
I close my eyes
and there you are,
sunlight on your back,
tail tracing joy
in slow, sweeping arcs.
You were never just a dog.
You were the soft in the day,
the anchor at night,
the silent answer
to things I couldn’t name.
And even now,
you're here—
in the hush,
in the still,
in the space I keep
just for you.
This a poem I wrote about my sweet little cocoa bear who passed back in 2022. I miss her like crazy right now. She was the light of my life. Hope yall enjoy. Thanks!
Sit now, close your eyes in prayer
Now, beat back to the forest
Through cinnamon dust and
Summer's suffocating air
Pounding heart
He is here now
See him beating
See him whirling
Your once boy body
Nostrils scorched in peppered air
Red earth prying between white toes
Which jump excited
At the burr's ***** and
Rushing now, red footed
Rush, rush, rushing now
His fingers whip at bark
Taught flanks lashed by fern
Sweat beads and sweetens
Cut and sting, this roughened
Breath and body sing
Eyeless and intoxicated
Now circling, now slowing
Toes trace a story from the dirt
Turning in a trance
He dances a circle and falls
Panting, in dimming light

In the forest's heart
Leaves patter beyond closed lids
No  thought intrudes here
In the silence of the woods
I hibernate like a bear, but not from winter, from the world.
This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped, which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.

I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.

I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.

I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
when the first line is the title,
when the content is unknown
morning in darkness as if the
sun can’t rise again.

the bulb popped and now we
have a lower light. we have an
understanding, we asked for
explaination. it came via another
route.

i live by the A470.
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