I sit in a crowd, but I feel alone,
A stranger in places I should call home.
Their voices blur, a distant sound,
Like I’m here—but never found.

I laugh on cue, I play my part,
Hiding the cracks inside my heart.
They see a face, they hear a voice,
But never the thoughts I drown by choice.

I wish I could say what’s trapped inside,
But every time, I run and hide.
Because what if they don’t understand?
What if no one holds my hand?

So I keep quiet, nod, and smile,
Pretending it’s okay for a while.
Maybe one day, the noise will fade,
And I’ll no longer be afraid.

I am a sentinel
Poet of stone
Sitting apart
Sitting alone.

I do not twinkle
No star made of glass
I do not think
About things of the past.

I'm no wooden flute
Played with feeling and ease.
My breathing on earth
Has long ago ceased.

I'm no longer able  
To hear, nor to talk
But when I move  
YOU WILL HEAR ME WALK.

I'm not man or woman
I'm not boy or girl.
I no longer see  
With the eyes of this world.

I cannot touch
And I cannot feel.
But I can exist  
I assure you I'm real.

I am an island
a massive stone head.
An ossified remnant  
Of the long-ago dead.

I haunt the gravestones
They draw me. They lure.
I am so like them
I will endure.

Yes, I'm a stone angel
Your flowers I see,
But I cannot smell them
For I cannot breathe.

Yes, those stone markers
A metaphor be.
Those silent stones
Are actually ME.


Soul Survivor

The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.