Hopeful Flame (a poem)

Her smooth skin is an illusion:
Inside, she’s tough like leather.
I don’t mean this cynically.

She’s seen catastrophe:
Yet, she persists.
Carrying a torch with a hopeful flame
That never dies out.

I don’t understand this.
She studies genocide,
Yet, she tells me everything
Will be okay.

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My Memories are Fading (a poem)

My memories, they are fading
Pictures of old days are rusting
Memories used to be cascading
Now, they are just crusting

Maybe I’m just getting older
And things I’m starting to forget
Old traumas no longer smolder
For my sins, I did repent

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Born Again (a poem)

I walked on a cold, misty night
Reflecting on my life thus far
I have given my life to Christ
Made wishes upon shooting stars
When released from behind bars
You could say I was born again
I’m better, but still have the scars
From a life devoted to sin

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Shadows and Me (a haibun)

The hand and the shadow. As the sun sets, light fades through the window. The angular shadows beckon me closer. I reach out with my finger, looking to meet my Shadow Self on the wall. Seeking to integrate those parts of myself I deny and push down. What happens when I touch the Shadow Self?

Hand seeks the shadow
Shadow reaches to the hand
My two selves’ touch

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River of Saviors (a haibun)

Washing in the river. Washing myself clean. Clean of the dirt and grime of a society gone mad. This is the way of my ancestors, to wash in the river away from the frenzies of the city. The water is cool, and my blood runs ice-cold when I step inside. I feel the purity of the saints.

River cleanses me
Of evil impurities
Baptismal waters

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Ash-Heaps of Anguish (a poem)

Self-doubt devours us,
uncertainties and distrust
of primeval dogmas that
failed us wretchedly

charlatan gurus claim
to cure me of fragility,
but steal my virtue,
leave me trembling in
hollow ghettos

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