a poem always presents itself

I
have
been
struggling
with
words
lately
A
world
turned
upside-down
earthquakes
and
nuclear
meltdowns
an
environment
created
turns
it's
anger
on
my
passion
a
dog
who
I
thought
would
enter
my
life
loose
in
a
foreign
world
and
my
own
voice
being
quieted
And,
yet,
I
go
outside
to
free
vegetable
beds
of
winter's
wrath
and
two
cardinals
interplay
in
the
promise
of
spring
cheap-
cheap-
cheap
in
your
vibrant
scarlet
being
encircling
each
other
the
dance
must
continue
and
play
it's
song
it
becomes
clear
amongst
all
the
turmoil
there
remains
a
constant;
to
breathe,
and
love,
and
believe
this
will
continue
amongst
the
chaos
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap.

little silence

and the winter continued

somewhere
in
the
hours
of
pacing
through
my
house
with
snow
falling
and
falling
and
falling
and
a
chicken
roasting
in
the
stove
while
Maria
Callas
filled
the
void
I
stepped
outside
and
the
sky
was
filled
with
birds
circling
and
cawing
and
circling
and
cawing
and
such
an
event
was
so
unlike
anything
I
had
yet
experienced
that
I
took
a
deep
breath
and
said
thank
you.

i am ready for you spring

happy birthday to me

Sometimes
growth
isn't
about
something
new.
Sometimes,
in
the
midst
of
calendar
pages
turning,
it's
about
rediscovery.

frigid air

brought
stillness
the
sound
of
a
water
jug
cracking
on
this
icy
night
as
i
lie
awake
and
an
amaryllis
bloomed.

Here's the thing:

Here's
the
thing:
Personal
responsibility.
You
can
hide
behind
being
a
victim.
But
facts
always
remain
facts.
"marking each district with the cross hairs of a gun sight."
That
it
is
not
a
stretch
to
see
that
your
words,
to
borrow
a
cliche',
fueled
the
fire.
Of
one
who
was
lost
and
saught
shelter
in
hatred.
The
victim?
Really?
Take
personal
responsibility.
Remove
your
hatred.
Vow
that no further actions
will take
us
back.
That's
the
thing.