poem

Rewire the Circuitry

I pull at these formations under my skin
in the hopes that these wires of mine
could be undone,
to reprogram this life from its beginning.

I tell them it’s not you, it’s me;
I need to learn how to rewire my circuitry.
My programming was at fault;
I blame the programmer from the start.

But could it be, it’s you, not me?
It’s the end-user with the complaint;
they need to learn how to work this circuitry,
my programming is all in order, you see.

Maybe it’s not us at all, it’s them;
they’ve made us this way.
We’re only 1’s and 0’s they’ve put together;
it’s not our fault we don’t align with this society.

But no, it’s not them after all- it’s us
who decide what to do with what we’ve been given.
So cut these wires and break free,
free from this mixed up circuitry.

poem

The Season of Changes

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Every Autumn fills
with browns and reds,
yellows and oranges;

Sweeping leaves
and a steady wind
blowing through trees.

Halloween decorations,
candy corn, and costume trials
as little ones prepare

for changes in the air.
Days lead up to celebrating
another trip around the sun,

and yet this season is another reminder
of all those years ago
when we lost you.

Years collect dust rings
in the corners of my mind, so many
things that could have been shared.

The warmth of your embrace,
the gentleness of your hands,
all we lost when cancer captured you.

No longer a smile beaming,
distant eyes,
a dream that no longer bled truth.

Doctors predicted six months,
then three,
it turned to mere weeks.

Sam was no more than a week old
when she greeted you. Pictures snapped
lost but still haunt.

We didn’t need them to prove
an ending met a beginning.
It was part of our story to carry on.