Go Within

a woman writing in her journal

On a cul de sac, years before, a house

not a home existed and hid horrors.

Bricks and mortar to insulate and douse

the children’s freedom to be explorers.

Putrid pink cabinets ripped from frames,

and dollar store glass shattered evermore.

Silence, a facade of peace, borne a game


Inside of a restaurant with no customers inside. The chairs and tables are black/brown wood.

When we reminiscence, a lot of us hold on to the positive parts of memories. After all, that is the essence of reminiscence: an enjoyable trip down memory lane. If I allow my thoughts of an ex-partner to flow back in an upstream vision of bright light, perhaps I won’t…

Warming to read ~ thank you!

Thank you so much and thank you for your lovely response! Little badges of honor, I love that a lot :)

Stretch marks mark it

stretch mark art by sara shakeel

Rugged red marks
multiple as I grow.
On legs, on breasts
underarms, over shoulders.
From youth to teen
they appear, here, there
and in the overnight burst
into woman.
They pop like fireworks
from nowhere,
but they don’t dissolve
in a cloud of smoke.
They burn and etch and
fade to silver
and remind me of battle scars.
Perhaps they are…

I love coming across poems that speak exactly to how I'm feeling! Beautiful work, thank you for sharing ~

Wow. A wonderful piece filled with so much. Thank you for sharing ~

J.R. Sonder

Tea loving Sydney sider eternally and optimistically coping with writing.

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