The Bottom Shelf Review

“Hot Springs. Green and clear…”

Hot Springs. Green and clear
roads, forcibly migrated away.
A place I knew by heart, broken
roads to childhood friends’ homes.
Diluted waters run amok the ground,
flooding. I am driven into the tide.
I never could find solace
in the grainy beach. Everyone else found treasure.
Lost, then found,
only to find myself lost. Again,
tossed somewhere unknown into the fields
of plentiful corn. A refreshing taste,
flavors forgotten since the spring.
Cornhuskers roofed over, shielding me
from all harm. Origins didn’t lay in the mid-west though.
Springs call my name, false songs
of riches and love cloud my senses.
Nostalgia takes over, guiding me
toward a pitfall not once there. Ravaged,
torn apart by the merciless
geyser. Shooting far into the sky,
destination unknown. Fear builds
until it bleeds. The pain lasts
for only a second, hope gathers
in its place. I rise above.
Remade once more into something
entirely new. A warmth unbeknown,
steam settles into a calm
breath. The air dances around me,
pushing me forward. Free
thoughts roam and wander
once again. New destinations lie
beyond the burg. Old anxieties
come once again, to try a hand.
It is hopeless,
I have driven, swam, and flown,
what else could I fear? Others
will guide me when I myself cannot.
The eternal fields still
grow their spoils. Treasure and foul
intent is only found in the Iris of the beholder.
This, I have learned. My freedom
is not blinded,
not by once was. Only what I believe
still lays there. My old friend,
Nostalgia, greets me once again.
I return home once more. Hopeful
thoughts about our meeting,
We travel down the path, full of holes
I now point out. It was all so obvious.

“My day began not long agoi, in a soft 8:30 glow…”

My day began not long ago, in soft 8:30 glow.
I woke and felt my spirits flow
not high, not low, just…even.
I brushed my teeth, took meds in tow,
Got dressed, and left the home I know. Bye.
School.
An ambulance came down my way,
cutting through the street.
Sirens sharp, slicing my morning. Neat.
I pulled aside, let their urgency flow.
One flash of red, then undertow.
Gone.
No meal has warmed my hands today,
but Starbucks waits along the way. Yay.
A drink for me, and one to share,
for my boyfriend waiting, with gentle care.
Home.
The day marches on, a calm parade. Wow.
Small moments rise, blooming till fade.
The sun gently reclines, letting the shadows play,
I take a breath, content with the day. I’m okay.
Okay.

“Fluttering away from the reaches of the earth…”

Fluttering
away from the reaches of the earth,
violet and orange streaking across
the incandescent skyline.
Desperately dodging
pillars of sand and bark in your path.
Your wing-beaten form
Ailed, Aching, Atrophied.
Enjoyed, once,
as an egg
untouched
by hands far and wide.
Released into a chasm
of service,
as a larva
for those not yourself.
Idolized
for your glimmering chrysalis
through which all
could look
and marvel.
Strangled
toward rushed adulthood
to sift through
mounds of expectation.
Your patterns prophesied
to uncover treasure
that lay buried,
sank into self-made tombs.
Let the Iris of the beholder declare,
this butterfly dared to dance,
before they dove downward.
It was only a matter of time
before you would lift
your trembling wings
and try again.
Now soar,
little monarch.
Let no soul drag you
back into that cold dark.