For Edgar Diaz Your secret self stays caged in a world you claim you never made. No windows watch you; no doors turn for you. Here there’s neither help nor need. The only sound you hear is your own breathing, and the rattle of another lonely cup against distant bars. When the warden finally comes, he tosses you a crumb you proudly disdain in that way you’ve become the master […]
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Ruth Sabath Rosenthal | Oh, for the green of bygone days!
“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.” — Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Song of Myself Walt, it’s been over a century since you bequeathed us the trees of your youth standing sky-high in air fresh with optimism — trees, that now stand stalwart in airs rank with intolerance, limbs reaching upward entreating […]
Jennifer Freed | The Distance
The distance between the desire to be ahead of where we are and the embrace of self-acceptance can feel insurmountable Feelings are not like river stones They cannot be skipped Each subtle granule of emotion wants its own voice and reflection Every nuanced perception calls for contemplation Suffering through the seemingly endless moments of torpid growth can test even the most patient among us But racing ahead without proper footing […]
Joe Cottonwood | Wells Fargo Bank
Noon, I’m next in line behind an old man. “I want to withdraw fourteen dollars,” he says. The teller, a young woman with a soft sweater, says “There’s only—let me check—yes—fifty-two cents.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” She tilts her head. “Sorry.” The sorrow is genuine. He wears a pinstripe suit, frayed, wafting an ancient odor of smoke and earth. A smartly folded handkerchief, breast pocket, has a dark stain. His […]
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