Wild by RoZo

i used to be


of being invisible

without scent

without voice

or breath


blocked the view

placed me

outside the frame

a crack

in the wall

a centipede

crawling in the dark

But now

I sing

and clap

and dance

’til echoes

bounce from mountain tops

and angels sing

glory to the creator

praise to the son

submission to the spirit 

I have become

a voice to hear

a light to guide

a pathfinder!





OwenOliverand the blue glasses



For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid

by William Stafford

There is a country to cross you will
find in the corner of your eye, in
the quick slip of your foot—air far
down, a snap that might have caught.
And maybe for you, for me, a high, passing
voice that finds its way by being
afraid. That country is there, for us,
carried as it is crossed. What you fear
will not go away: it will take you into
yourself and bless you and keep you.
That’s the world, and we all live there.

“For My Young Friends Who Are Afraid” by William Stafford from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems. © Graywolf Press, 1998

Poem to a Stranger

I dreamed
you moved into my house,
a stranger,
with all your prescriptions,
favorite chair,
all your needs.

There were 60 more,
just like you.

My house was occupied.
My car

All my personal space.

I stopped breathing…
Afraid to share.

Then my first floor flooded.
We rescued each other.
All of us
treading water.

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