Something has troubled my restless soul
Sit, I tell it. Be still, be quiet.
Rustle and they will only poke at you.
Something came this way.

What to soothe the gaping spaces?
How to mend when eyes do what they are meant to do.
See what is shown.
Ears that listen to what is spoken.

Wound upon wound, graft upon scar.
Salt of the finest grain.
When you know better, they say, you do better.
But don’t rustle the leaves, they will not offer you cake.


About kat9090

Hafu (Half Japanese), Late Discovery Adoptee, Sister, Mom, Daughter, Wife, I cook, look back, look forward, lean left, drive a lot, write a lot, wish a lot, I will be square with you if you are square with me. Find me on Instagram @shojikat and Twitter @biteme9090
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2 Responses to Trouble

  1. Susan Diggle says:

    Transforming pain and injury into metaphors that resonate beauty, insight and healing, this is art.

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