The Unbecoming

He opened the door with a trembling hand,To a shadow he swore he’d never withstand.They wore a smile stitched tight with lies,A serpent’s grace in a lover’s guise. They spoke of change, of pain, of light,Of demons battled in the lonely night.And though the truth rang false and thin,His heart was weak, he let them […]

Some souls are born with light in hand,A quiet grace, a love so grand.They bloom like spring in every room,And lift the hearts they help exhume. They are the reason joy takes flight,The calm that breaks a stormy night.Their presence heals, their laughter staysA blessing wrapped in human shape. But others come with darker thread,With

Because you are here, and he is gonea life cut short, a light withdrawn.You cried your tales in silence loud,wove storms from sorrow, fierce and proud. You cast him in a cruel disguise,a villain framed by careful lies.Denied him voice, denied him peace,you bound his truth and gave no lease. You claimed he ruled with

His voice still lingers like smoke in the air,A whisper of grief too heavy to bear.“They’ll suffer,” she said, with venom so deepAnd now, every breath is a struggle to keep. We never saw hatred behind her smile,Never thought silence could grow so vile.What did we do? We search through the past,But the answers elude

He said, “Everything’s under control,”A mantra meant to calm the soul.With steady hands, composed and sure,He built a life he’d not endure. The signs were there obscure, subduedA glance, a pause, a shifting mood.But we, too wrapped in daily pace,Missed all the cracks beneath his face. He bore the weight no man should bearAlone, unseen,

We were walking with Him, hand in hand,For years that stretched like sacred sand.Five decades deep in whispered prayer,A trust built strong, a love laid bare. My mother’s voice, so known above,Was steeped in reverence, wrapped in love.A bond with God so pure, so trueWe never thought He’d undo the view. But then it came,

The Night Owl The owl worked for years with patient spite,Each step concealed, each move just right.No warmth to fake, no love to feignJust quiet loathing, tightly reined.She cooked it up, a flawless scheme,To end his light, fulfill her dream.And when he fell no trace, no clueShe flew away like morning dew.No guilt, no tie,

Life threw storms with ruthless aim,But he stood unmoved, without shame.Till his last breath, he fought the tide,Rising, stumbling, still with pride. He bore the weight, the fire, the fight,And smiled through the darkest night.Hope in his voice, though hollow within,He wore a mask, but never gave in. Yet some dare now to twist the

A Martyr No One Named He was laughter onceA spark in the crowd,A stag who danced with stormsAnd made the broken feel proud. Thirteen years under vows and roof,Not of joy, but of silent proofThat love can die without a sound,While duty still walks around. Two fawns he cradled with calloused hands,Though their hearts were

He rose with the sun and packed his soul,Box by box, goal by goal.Five long hours behind the wheel,Every turn a prayer, every mile surreal. He sweat blood under the weight of goodbye,But not once did he pause to cry.For what’s a little pain, a little delay,When your heart is finally on its way? He