Racing forward,
heartbeat pounding in my ears,
and my heart trips over
the irregular rhythm
of its own beat.


my soul has come home,
but my body is returning to it’s pursuit of mortal hopes and wants.

Reaching out

I saw you, glassy eye’d, face distorted in a silent scream, your hand reaching out to the skies. I walked in, viewed your medical report. . .
Next of kin: none
Contact person: social worker in oldage home.

I pray for your suffering to be eased. You sit up, reach out your hand, tears streaming down your face. . . You try to say something. . . But disappear, back, into the silent scream.

I walk out wondering How your story unfolds, maybe i’ve left you wondering why a stranger visited you only to be silent.