Worlds
Being someone who has spent many hours dreaming of and building fantastical worlds for myself, I escape to them. I envision a version of myself that doesn’t have my current problems, one that has the answers to today’s questions, and has muffled the buzzing of yesterday’s stress.
I’ve felt the confidence of someone who is steadfast in their dream projects, walking in their purpose, watching as all of the pieces fall into place. These moments feel grand and enlightening. My smile feels wider, like it reaches farther, and my head sits on the very tip of my spine.
As things around me shift, my reality seems to be something I can no longer bend with the same elasticity, I feel time tugging my bones deeper into the ground and gripping me before I wake. These fantastical places I’ve seen are further yet closer than they’ve ever been.
Lighting Showers
A bittersweet twinkle from the corner of my eye
Blinded by the flashes of a late May sky
As the lighting strikes, I see moments of sun
Then quickly reminded of the perils of some
One sky, seen through the eyes of many
It has many faces
Quickly poking fun at our brief attention spans
To me, it blinks, pettily
I rush home to my roof to marvel at its grand show only to barely grasp the essence of its glow
It skirts through the sky stretching its branches
Searching for roots
Nothing latches
A spectacle to be seen and not heard
For it’s a rehearsal for the stars
A shimmy for the moon
It’s not for us
Not even me and you
Idols
When imagining that “after place” I think of the beautiful faces that will greet each other, blushed and big-eyed, grateful for every second. Every breath. Remembering the storm on their heel.
Once a shore, looking around for familiarity… stability. Guidance from ahead calls out. It’s the three Prestige Pioneers playing president. One grabs a stick and shell, one shouts loud commands, and one stands idly still. The big-eyed crowd watches in shock, still in shock from the storm on their heel.
What comes next? The crowd was unsure, intuitively, the might of them all caused an awful loud roar. Clack! Went the weapons of the pioneers next, they silently shuffled as they fled to the shore in search of a real quest. There were nothing but gentle waves and endless currents for as far as the eye could see.
To turn around and face the rest was the only choice. One turned. Then the next. Without looking back, the last one walked into the sea never to be seen again. It’s known that facing what you fear is a noble act. Stroke after stroke they vanished.
From now on, the “after” place is, now, just a new place. Many look out into the ocean remembering the storm on their heel, remembering what was before, and envisioning what’s ahead. Many see arms swimming back. Many stay prepared for the next attack.
Bee Stings
Hushhh!
You talk too much
Every time I lift my head you’re quick to throw a punch
Your words sting, the swing of a bee I’ve never seen
Every time I open my mouth
Every time I dream of the sun
Every time I think of just enough
I get a buzzed jab to the gut
If only others saw the bruises you’ve left in my head after punching out my peace
If only you would just leave
Self-critic, you are such a bee.
Why is it that when I do something good, you remind me how I’m weak?
“I try so hard” is that my bit?
A circus act trying to make it all fit
You just won’t accept that I can win
A triumph for me is a burden for you
And misery loves the company of a few
So you make it your life’s work to degrade my shine and cascade down my spine, digging at the seeds I’ve been planting
Why can’t you just let them grow?
Uninterrupted, untouched
Maybe that’s asking a bit much
Maybe I should lend an ear and see what it is you have to share
Actually no, I don’t care
A bee like you isn’t worth my hair
I’ve shed enough of myself worrying because of you
Go elsewhere
With you, my peace is never something I want to share
Keeuha 
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