FoundI took his hand and placed it on the cool, damp soil. I let it rest there, just feeling. Then I spoke.
"Can you feel it?"
"Well, yeah," he answered, confused by my question. I had always confused him, and I knew it. But somehow he was there with me then, despite my quirks. And that was why I was there with him.
"What does it feel like?" I asked. I knew, but I wanted him to say it, wanted him to understand, and wanted him to know.
"It's wet. And kind of cold. Soft." Perfect. He knew.
My next movement surprised him, but he didn't stop me. I could tell he was thinking about it, but he didn't stop me. I am glad he didn't. I took his hand, which was still underneath mine on the ground, and placed it on my chest, directly below my neck.
"Can you feel it?" I asked again. This time his answer was simpler.
"Yes." He said it softly, unsure of my motive.
"What does it feel like?"
"Warm. I like the feeling of your skin. It's soft." When he saw that his answer made me smile, his eyes bri
The WindowI thought I was thinking
But I was only dreaming
Because I saw your face
And I know I'm not
Supposed to remember it
So I thought of sunflowers
And how the yellow makes me smile
But when I smiled
And I saw my reflection in the window
For a moment I thought
You had come back to me
Then I realized I was only confused
Because you had always been my smile
The Voice I Did Not Recognize
My sister often finds herself
Sleeping next to me at night
After she has seen the horrors of films
I roll away, and attempt to sleep
Attempt to forget her petty nightmares
My eyes are closed and tight
My dreams are walking across
The horizon of the unknown
And I hear a voice
That at first I do not recognize
But as I listen and associate
I hear my sister whispering
I do not have to be afraid, she says
Even though I am scared, she says
Because I have you next to me, she says.
IdentityI live in the World
I have spent time here
I have seen it
I have felt it
When the wind blows
I wonder if the World is happy
Because the wind, when it blows,
Brings me bliss, serenity
When the rain falls
I wonder if the World is crying
Although its people are dancing
And although its life is renewing
When I see the eyes of someone else
When I am fully aware of existence
Other than my own self
I wonder how much we really know
How much we do not know
How much we will learn
And what we will not learn
What, exactly, does Death hide from us?
What is Life too shy to reveal?
And, then, what are we too blind to see?
What are we too busy to discover?