A harp will be given to me.

Gold frame, silver strings

It will speak: play me

Plucked its strings, she sang her name.

“Amazing Grace,” she played

“What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Play me, so He will hear.”

“Oh I do not know;

It’s His thoughts I fear.”

“Is there no one else?”

Her strings giggle blissfully,

Come as you are and play

He would have it no other way.”

-With a line from Cathy Songs, Adagio-

"The room had no view"

I lay injured

I realized

our bodies are self-healing

like crisp water, the seas

salt cauterizing our wounds

a sewing machine, mending

threading back together,

woven tightly our soft skin

Snow, to the ground

black stream to ice, canvas white

falling still, slowly, every mite coming down

the snow, gleaming in the moonlight

My eyes, aroused

stuck gazing at the ivory sheet

looking long to the left, peering to the right

I saw a little pearl armored fleet.

I was not wrong; I hear the drums beat

the way the snow triumphs, smothering, clean

how long, until their endeavors complete

they are going to battle, the forever green

My four-post bed sways

in a canopy of fading yellow rays

daylight's candle, burning down

copper aura outlines the shape

in golden blush it surrounds

firefly porchlights hang in the night

The smell of cut grass in a drifting breeze

concerts; crickets, cicada,

playing loudly in the cul-de-sac of towering trees

A gorgeous sprite reveals her ashen face

Ushering in a plush tranquil light

the moon, smooth with an unblemished grace

dancing in the music she hears tonight

Depression, silent as a breeze in an open field

always blowing, changing direction, never standing still

when the wind has halted it exists unseen

If it were possible to turn back the pages filled

happiness would flow like a stream

to capture a minuscule moment

to relive it would put me at ease

Moments sailing in photos; faces frozen in time,

remnants of what once was;

whom we thought we would be

The rain falls, on the hard stone roof of a woodland cottage. The wind swishing and swaying the many trees making up the woodline. There is an unsettling fog across the land; a dim light breaking through the dense smoke like air.

It came from a tiny window of the cottage, where a boy suffers from poison like cancer. The young boy sits in an arched chair looking out at the murky world behind the stained glass window. The boy with a gloom face thinks about the existence of God. He has never truly believed in God and has no real faith of his own.

The boy thought and thought; if there were no God then where do the answers come from? Is there a Heaven? Do we all just disappear and rot in the ground? The boy started to cry not knowing what will happen when he dies. The boy gets up from his chair and saves himself from his overflowing thoughts of death by falling to his knees before the window and prays for the first time.

"Dear God, this is the first time I have ever prayed to you because I do not know if you are truly there, give me a sign my God, and show me you are my Lord. Tell me I will ascend to a place where I am immortal and where I will feel no pain let me know God, please let me know!" the boy sadly pleaded.

The boy prayed for hours; emotionally and physically exhausted, the boy's head fell to the ground. Panting and trying to catch his breath as tears fell from his sullen face. An excruciating pain comes from within his chest and all the thoughts that told him God did not exist went through his mind over and over.

Suddenly, the boy's pain went away and he heard a calm, but stern voice,

The boy whimpered, "God are you truly there?"

"I have always been." God replied, "All you had to do is call out my name."

With warming ease in the boy's heart, he recognized His holiness. The boy feels joy for now knowing that God had always been with him. His worries of death and oblivion have all been washed away by his newly acquired faith. It brought so much relief to the boy's soul he began to cry tears of joy.

The boy then replies with tears in his eyes and with his righthand laid upon his heart, "I can now die knowing you are always there."

The boy closed his blue eyes and everything in his world grew quiet and still. Finally, at peace with all he had suffered.

A man, a magician, tall, slouched, magnificent looking into a crowd of clueless volunteers, victims. Peering, darting mincingly through every row he pointed dead at me

as if every red velvet seat were empty I was alone.

Walking up on stage, the lights burn my skin, it stings; the steps are steeply and I am struggling to climb, out of breath. I see a cliche, a fake Houdini. Blacktop hat, black jacket, white undershirt; seven gold buttons, red sash, and a magic wand.

As I walked up, he asked for my name I stared unknowing what was in store. He turned to the audience revealing his act. I was to go into an enormous cedar box and he would then impale swords into it from the outside.

The box was summoned from the ceiling; it slowly dropped down from four long, thick, black vine-like cables set on a faded platform with five steps, I am told to "please step in. It's alright." Reassured, I go willingly.

Once inside, I see and hear nothing. Silent darkness.I hear a thud, there is silence again. I feel something pinching my back, like a Hercules beetle grabbing a snack, it stabs me, a sharp blade, I feel the blood, I smell blood.

Next, I feel the same pain in my leg just above the knee; it hurts in a way that made me wish I were someplace else; this was a dream, but it was real.

I keep hearing thuds, one after another. Piecing steel shaves my skin cuts my bones. It is pure anguish. I wondered if the audience heard my blood-curdling screams, and why they would let it happen?

Then I heard whispers of my paranoia: "they can't hear you.","no one sees your pain", "they don't know your pain. The ripping of your flesh and bone is ignored like a fly in your ear." The whispers stop with a rattling noise. I see a bright ivory line.

I come out clean. No pain, no blood, only glorious applause. No one sees what happens behind the scenes. It is a magic act.