There is a space that remains empty

an emotionless vacuum stripped clean of life

left floating between all things in the past

and the wants I harvest today.

I let go and a part of me drains away

empty space it becomes in between

what I was and what I am-


“I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Their Sins



Their Sins


I carry their sins deep inside my bones

and they turn and they burn

oh how they burn!

When I become unglued

they stick to my cells

and they say and it’s true

the sins of our fathers

will fall on their sons-

I carry their sins and a sickness of heart

and it breaks me apart

to my skin slowly rise

taking hold of my life

and they turn and they burn

oh how they burn!


“The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.”

― William Shakespeare






I ambled along the edge of my days

Patience is a virtue they say if you know how to wait

but my life written past compromising my fate

burning light in a waste of a daze

served a master in memories graze.


But so hard to let go of the passing of life

Time’s a cruel thief they say but none has been taken

when I gave it away or it was most forsaken

clenching strong to the edge of a knife

thus neglecting to keep ‘self alive.


And what I seek if a master of winds

Life to be lived not controlled they say but I yank

and I push while I gulped and I drank

dragging stories behind with a glimpse

of my life just one set of footprints.


So I drift on these places that passed

Renew, release and let go they say while you can

does not matter where all things began

while I question how long all will last

living life between present and past-


“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

― Søren Kierkegaard





Time frozen, a knock on my door,

a stranger weary and weak,

asking, “have you ever seen a life

like the one I had before? Way before

my need to search, my need to have,

back then my life unique”

-he softly said showing the path,

“with pain and anguish on this path I strived”

-repeated twice and looked away.

“I know, I know for scars I wear”

I quickly added, “it’s so unfair”

The stranger paused “I’ll find my way”

-he sadly said “and search some more”.







Easier to live hanging on to the before

than to swallow the here and now

You always told me life was how

we made our way to the forever,

broken years that passed you never

said how far to reach the shore.


Easier holding on to what was then

when life seemed an endless road

of happiness and love stowed

in places deep within,

but never said when to begin

as never knew it was to end.






What we leave behind stays behind

some in shadows, some in light

pain or joy, some alike.

What we take has no essence

but the flavor of emotions

within ashes we may find,

it has no presence

in a road already written

and a path already drawn,

but we hold such silly notions

in the recess of our mind

that a story be rewritten

when we know the time is gone

and what’s gone stays behind.