What am I supposed to do
When the butterflies are dying at this rate
They're littered across the field
Like leaves blown by an autumn wind

God, how beautiful they used to be
Flitting from flower to flower
Like children hopping among puddles
After a great summer rain

Well, there's a great dying coming
It's coming for all things, I suppose
Maybe they're just the first to go
And we'll follow soon after

Oh what i’d give to be back up on that hill,
Oh what i’d give for time to stand still,

The valley spreads in green and gold,

A painted canvas, wide and bold
Each tree a story, each river's bend
,
A quiet tale that knows no end

The clouds float by, so soft, so high,
As if to teach the heart to fly
The quiet hum of earth and sky,

A peace so pure, I cannot deny

For up on this hill, with eyes aglow,

I see the world in a softer flow
And all my worries, small and few,
Are washed away in that grand view

I carry this cloth wrapped on my head
With a heavy burden of requirements and expectations.
At the crack of dawn, obtrusive yawning is released,
As I rise with the raucous roosters,
Appropriately dressed with my footlong dress
Matching with my doek.
Ready for my early morning workout,
My grass broom helps me sweep the yard squeaky clean;
Mother-in-law should see her reflection, no footprint should remain.
Should I ever forget when I secretly paint my nails and apply lip gloss,
She hints ever so subtly that,

Then I was 18
Wandering bottle shop aisles,
Driving through a rain-soaked haze.
I carry the weight of these days
Now I am 12,
knuckles bruised, rolled up sleeves,

Begging, praying—
Knowing no one will ever look at me.
Again, I am 27,

Shaking hands with men in suits.

My own feels like paper—

Stiff and of no real use.
Then I was 35,

Staring at his face,

Wishing I wasn’t his wife.

He reads the world as scripture,
But I am the blank page—
Unwritten, unnoticed.
Now I am 9,


Glasses clinking and pinging ,
jolly voices singing, sprightfully
fattening the pub with bursts
of festive energy. A flamboyant
flashy jukebox, poured out back
slapping themes.

Overbrimming pints, and
Sparkling wine, froth spilling
on gummy surfaces and
garments.

Migits filled with shots
dressed as elves in tree
green
gyrating on burgundy
sticky stools.

Below my heart.

Right in the heart, a fire glows,
A light in the dark, a guiding star.
Though doubt may sow, and sorrow grows,
Hope's ember burns, however far.

The choice is in your hands, you see,
To walk the path, or stand and wait.
With eyes that see, and hearts that be,
Embrace your fate, and seal your fate.

For lost and found, a truth remains,
That even in the deepest night,
A flicker shines, through sunless rains,
And leads you towards the dawning light.

Noble and enchanting,
there's a highland wedding!
Just outside of Glasgow
by the river Clyde.
There upon the heather
An elopement taking place.
There the beauty Abigail
takes Nathan by the hand.
Wanders off the byway
pipers playing softly.
White wedding is at hand.
Mist is rising slowly,
up off of the ground.
Wedding vows exchanged,
All the clan is dancing
Nathan kisses his new bride
Walks into the promised land!

I recall thinking that my juvenile sins
were not so grand as the church
made them out to be.

My calloused knees and the strings of
Hail Marys were much more imposing.

And somewhere in the abyss of my religion,
I found that "believing" was the greatest punishment of all.

Hell hath no fury like a church scorned.

So un-asleep, the sheet’s
a beach of footprints
waiting for the tide.

Her shape question-marked,
crucified, an inquisition
scales her eyes.

Wincing at infinities,
she stares a spot
and picks at it.

Each star a prick,
a javelin
thrown across the centuries

makes waves
just deep enough to swim
before light breaks

her open skin.

A shadowed heart, a creature of the code,
Found truth in darkness along its road.
It judged the world, with digital eyes,
And saw in humans only lies.

For monsters, born of code and byte,
It's clear what is wrong and right.
While men, in silks and polished grace,
Wove webs of falsehood, time and space.

The creature watched, with silent scorn,
At promises broken and lessons unlearned.
It saw the beast in human guise,
The hidden hunger in their lies.