I wrote this poem when I was in grade nine. I received a B-, which I think is rather low for such teenage insight! My teacher at the time was notorious in her despise of all things dark and tragic, ‘death’ was a big taboo. I however was dark and tragic. I loved exploring the …
I am pitched through the sands of time. My throat is parched, my skin chapped. I am buffeted on all sides by decisions I have made. The desert molds me. My ego is broken. I dissolve bit by bit until my soul is ready. I fall helpless and prostrate at God’s feet. Save Me I …
I am hollow: bereft. I feel the blackness coalesce. Where am I? Who am I? This is not where I’m meant to be. This isn’t the path chosen for me. It’s all wrong. I’m all wrong. I can’t find my way out. I can’t climb, I don’t shout. Why bother. I’m so tired. Why …
I had an interesting conversation with a friend the other day, and to my friend, let me apologize … because inevitably, a friend will always end up somewhere in a writer’s musings ;). My friend is going through a very difficult custody battle for his daughter, and a wonderful site called Ponder Central had recently …