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sharpening against stone,

shaping with friction and

chew-on-this piece of


gristle. Not pleasant.

For either of us. My intent,

of course, is to guide


and mould in dissonant

harmony. To rough sand

using my crushed dreams and


useless excuses from my

own youth. To expose the

cracks now so that we can


sculpt together until smooth

so you are ready to face

the wild winds dancing on


the not-so-distant horizon.

I secretly hope that you’ll

let me polish with wise words


but you cannot hear, will

not hear, because I don’t

bring joy; I don’t bring  


laughter; I don’t bring easy

free talk. Instead, we become

two very different sides


of the same coin – so close

yet destined to never meet.

Heads or tails?


At this point, I’ll take either

just as long as we share a

genuine smile one day.


The water of the world will

do my job from here on out

and while you choose your rivers


to race and conquer, I search

for one moment that makes

your eyes light-up when you


see my eyes


for you.

First appeared in Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing 3.2 | June 2017