BrokenEchoes

  Opening Reflection: June has arrived with its heavy green and its sudden rains. The air feels thicker, like it’s full of stories still half-formed. Some days I feel suspended between seasons. While remembering the promise of spring, I am bracing for summer’s heat.  Writing Update: I’ve spent much of this past week revisiting older work, not to revise it, but to reflect on it. One poem in particular came to mind after a recent conversation with my wife about small joys: the first blooms of the season, the reappearance of the birds in the yard, or how the light changes across the lake. Spotlight Poem: “Early Spring” Read it here: Early Spring (March 2022) This poem was inspired by a walk my wife and I took through Paintsville Lake State Park. It was still winter, but there were signs of an early spring The trail was still wearing winter’s grey and there was a cold breath of wind off the water. But in the middle of all that stillness, she saw them: the first wildflowers o...

Life isn’t fair It never was Some people are born wealthy Some people are born where opportunity exists Some people are born with nothing And no hope for anything more It is bad out there for most people And good for very few Life isn’t fair It never will be But please…don’t make it worse.

  Some monsters walk in the daylight Some don’t live under the bed Or in children’s closets The moon doesn’t influence some Some monsters walk without shambling Some have healthy living skin Some eat a diet that doesn’t include brains Some look like you and me They scan your items at the market They walk their dogs and mow their lawns They vote and pay their taxes They drive carpools and set up playdates They work late, or have a drink at the bar They seem friendly and polite They fit in with every day folks But they are monsters nonetheless  

  I have traveled far And the road has been treacherous Will you open your home to me I would like to rest Perhaps purchase a meal if I may I see you have a big black dog His teeth are long and his growl is loud He makes me afraid Will you put him away I humbly seek your hospitality Just a short break Then I will be on my way And you will never see me again If you wish, I will go now Other travelers will use different tactics Something might happen to your pet Something may happen to your home May I sit with you Will you let me buy some bread and cheese We can trade stories I can tell you of my travels I would hear news of the nearby village I can mark your home So when future wanderers come this way You and yours will see no harm Thank you I appreciate your generosity

  When I was offered a bowl of flame I drank eagerly There was a promise of havoc And I had a thirst for chaos I yearned for any novelty Any disruption to this mundane survival So I drained the blazing vessel And dashed it to shards on the floor I readied myself for excitement that did not come The wildfire spread within me, but quickly Dwindled to a burnt-out smolder Ashes coated my guts  My bones were soot-blackened I should never have expected more I returned with disappointment to my empty existence.  

  I have been outside too long Time to slink back to my cave It is cold and damp and dark There is only room enough for me The sun is too hot on my skin Its blinding brightness causes my eyes to ache I crave the cool comfort of my cavern There is only room enough for me I am not built for this scorched land I need constant shade and drink My dug-out chamber is just how I like it And there is only room enough for me  

Take a moment and look around See where we are Think back to where we started We have come so far We have done so much We have helped so many We have had wins and losses Good days and bad Days when I fell, and you helped me stand Days when we supported each other Navigating rocky terrain Days when we lost our way And drifted along together for a time I would not have made it this far If you were not with me I am thankful we are making this journey together

  “I have slowly become tangled Just a knot of unfulfilled expectations That I can’t figure out how to untie” She stared out the window as she spoke The bus was nearly empty But I could tell these words weren’t meant for me She continued… “I have let down everyone I know I’ve handed out disappointment like business cards Like fliers at an airport Like cake at an office party” She uttered these thoughts with palpable regret She had disappointed herself as well This was evident The bus slowed to a stop and she got off I don’t know if she was on the phone talking to someone Talking to herself Talking to the night I’ve never seen her again I still think of her sometimes When I disappoint someone,  Or someone disappoints me I hope, wherever she is,  That things have gotten better for her  

  You keep asking me the wrong question Your query is adjacent to what you want to ask But you can’t bring yourself to form the words My response continues to frustrate you It is truthful, but tangential This isn’t easy for either of us But I am not going to help you It isn’t my place If you want to know, you must ask No hidden meanings Behind euphemisms Around the corner Or behind the curtain I will answer honestly If you are brave enough to ask.  

  We live in the future we feared We saw the signs We knew what we would see If we stayed on our path We walked on We knew the pain we would face If we didn’t make a change We didn’t change anything We knew how hopeless it would be Unless we made better decisions We pushed forward without thinking it through Now we live in the dark tomorrow That we foretold yesterday Just as we always knew we would.

  There are too many souls here Making too many mistakes Causing too much damage I wander among them Each with distinct scents Each with their own gait Each with individual nuance I wonder about them None of us want this We all want to leave But we keep getting in each other's way Making too many mistakes Causing too much damage.

  What was once a dream That lived in the dark cave In the deepest unseen part of my mind Now sits openly, visible to anyone Under the bright fluorescent kitchen light On the table next to the salt shaker How much further can it go? What other miracles will it perform After clawing its way into existence?

  It grew quicker than I could have imagined It started small and manageable I should have dealt with it then I should have addressed it, and ended it It has grown large now, heavy Its mass increases more the longer I wait I have waited so long that I can no longer lift it off me So now it loiters, taking up more and more of my life Compressing my chest, taunting me,  I am powerless to solve this myself No help is coming Soon I will be crushed Soon I will be killed Under the weight of this neglected monstrosity.

  Two languages simultaneously One of love     The other of suspicion Telling of beauty and joy     And of secrets and lies Searching at ones sweet gaze Presenting the footprints of the dark garbed burglar Finding one nearby Being followed directly to all my hidden secrets.

  When we were young Before we understood the world We sought out small dark spaces We slid under the bed We climbed into the dryer We closed ourselves up in the pumphouse We disappeared into the crawlspace We found solace in the kitchen cabinets We searched out these cramped places That could be shut off from view We were hiding from the monster in our home We were always found Now we are older I still shrink from the light I still pursue cramped dim hideaways I may always I hope you have fared better.

Neither of us is attentive I stopped listening when I was younger When he was younger too Back then he spoke in anger And listened to the bottle I shrank from his words Learned to distrust them I could say nothing that interested him He is older now, but communication hasn’t improved He listens to the book now Taking notice of little else He talks in feigned meekness Forgetting willfully the past barbarity My trust hasn’t recovered as fully as my bones His softer up-to-date language Does not penetrate my skin We talk,  but only superficially We speak, but it is formulaic And mundane We exchange words, But neither of us really says anything In a way The empty bland chatter hurts worse  Than the belts and backhands In another way It hurts far worse.