I grew up a poor country girl living on the out skirts of town. We would move every year like the military form place to place and house to house within in the same little town of Turbeville.

There weren’t many neighbors, so me and my siblings, two boys and five girls, spent most of our time roaming the woods for fruits and berries. We played all the outdoors games we knew and created some of our own. Those were the days of innocence and youthfulness.

At my journey's end,
When dark and warping cold
At last could wend
Their strangling hold
Around the vacuum space
Where my poor heart
Would always race
To speeding start
Of empty faith's embrace,
I found instead
A new and different place
That inexorably led
Into belief bereft of wrath
And without sin,
Leading to another path
I could begin to tread again.

Fear works;
has since the earliest tribe,
the first strong voice of unreason

... but reason;
hides in secret corners,
baring greedy teeth,
slobbering success in numbers

... and the following grows.

Afraid;
we congregate,
allured to the heat of the crowd,
and find ourselves growling,
armed ... with mob intention.

Repetition of History
Kill the Enemy
Motivated Murder

... when will we learn?

when you need somebody to talk with,

i’ll be always here,

just as when you need someone to hold you back,

i’ll carry you with care,

when you see confusions on the road,

i’ll show you the way,

when you feel down and blue,

i’ll do brighten your day,

when you get lost in the dark,

i’ll be your light,

when you met your restlessness,

i’ll be your night,

when you met puzzles in your life,

i’ll help to play,

when you need someone to love you the most,

i am here to stay.