Relationships

i need relationships that
sear my soul
i gleefully draw too close
to the fire
set ablaze the forest
is made anew

i need relationships that
balm my soul
unflinching let us bear witness
to each other's wounds
and talk with healing hands

Death Is the Bullied Kid

Death is the bullied kid at school.
Shunned, ridiculed, lunch money stolen,
Avoided at recess,
Mocked by all--
Ostracized for being different.
Death walks home from school,
Alone,
The older kids throwing
Sticks & stones,
Jeering, taunting.
Death cannot go a day
Without suffering a rather violent
Wedgie.
My dear Death,
I will be your friend.
I will walk home with you,
Split my lunch money with you,
Play hide and seek with you
At recess.
You will be my partner
For the terrarium project
Due on Wednesday.
Death, do not weep.
I will be your friend,
No matter what the bullies think.

Cross-Stitch

needle and thread
punctuating fibres of linen
taut, release
another silky drop of colour
cross-stitched into white oblivion
as your voice
wavering so slightly
taut, release
says your heart is wide open
to rust, wounded in the
roaring wind
the cadences in your stories
are marked with
x's
blue, red, purple, green
my dear, take this embroidery
into your hands
what do you see?
thread by thread
i pull away the bleeding colours
of your heart's shroud
and stitch them
taut, release
into this veil of prayers
all our own