On Birds, Bullets, and Being — Discover

Kris reflects on women, aging, invisibility, and anger, after her 50-year-old neighbor was killed by police. “Otherwise, feel free to roam about the cabin, but the bar is closed. Put on the hideous red hat, proclaim the end to your sexual being, and commence to overeat. Conversely, you could always get a gun.”

via On Birds, Bullets, and Being — Discover




A word we say

So often we feel

I will tell you, after these years

The word means nothing

When you haven’t ‘lived’

But means something when you’ve lifted your soul

Higher and higher

A concrete block lifted from beneath

The word ‘happy’ comes into clarity

Own Right

I want to smear this on my face,Start something new 

When I think about this,

And what it’s been 

I wonder how I’ve let it go so far

When I tried to tint the glass of my skewed view

I shown that even the hand that feeds you can get bitten 

And disgraced, it is,

To be called names that hurt deeper than spoken words

I won’t say that my sunset is pale or my sun is brighter 

It is an unlikely duo to be so sad

I am still sad,

In my own right 


Saturday is quiet 

In the sweetness of the grocery store

There is walk-in traffic, 

And moments of stillness 

As the world outside walks by.

What’s funny is the quality of life

The life of mine that has changed…

Since I gave up a job I was qualified for,

For one that I had little experience with

You might ask, “what am I doing?”

For that, I do not know

But in a moment of strength,

I had the power to choose my path,

Despite the questions.

Only to find more answers.