I dig until the shovel hits something true.
The ground groans a secret, and I promise not to tell.
I wipe the dirt off what used to matter, and something in me shifts.
It didn’t take long, once they named it’s price.
The gavel dropped harder than anything I’d ever heard in my life.
Back home, my family’s bracing for it.
The sparks race along the wires,
A silent countdown ticking until the dynamite finally caves.
The sound of it reaches everywhere, anger piled up over years, cracks open all at once.
There was an earthquake.
There was an avalanche.
We were terrified.
We cried until we made a hurricane.
The water didn’t stop—
It rose and rose until we had no choice but to fold our hands and pray.
Like falling dominoes, the wildfires catch everything.
And somehow, through the ruin, a new world starts to take form.
The ground shivers beneath my glass house, but I force it out of my thoughts, call it courage, this choice to live without a safety net.
I bend the word “faith” until it fits what I need it to mean.
As long as the sirens stay quiet,
I can pretend I’m safe.
As long as the sirens stay quiet,
I’m safe.
I enjoyed this.
Thank you, Adagio. That does mean a lot to me.
There’s too many good lines in this.
This is how I felt about giving up rage.
Thank you so much, Adira. I think I know what you mean about giving up on rage.
You’re welcome
Beautifully penned, Patricia. Great read with stellar imagery. Appreciate you.
Damian
I’m really glad you enjoyed it. Thank you so much, Damian.
hello beautiful Patricia this is relatable in many ways to me the anger threatening and those sirens singing…this is surreal and so great 💕
Thank you, Brenda. You’re a beautiful soul.
Whoa….this is heavy….some serious introspection you got going on here.
Deep. I’m diggin it!!!
I’m so flattered that you enjoyed it. Thank you, Naajir.