Manifest

The Angel numbers come to me again and again,

remind me once more I’m in the presence of Friends.

The significance of Ones not lost on me,

The meaning of anew, fresh start, the very first, sparkling beginning.

I’ve been seeing them for months now on all the clocks;

11:11 in the morning makes my heart stop.

Again in the afternoon, 1:11pm there she is!

I’m being told valuable information and my Guides won’t let me forget it.

My Spiritual soul on high alert as I go through this transition.

Are my stars aligned? Is it Virgo season? Is the moon in position?

But seriously, timing is everything, I’m trying to be patient.

Awaiting this outcome I have no control in, I’m lying still, latent.

Like looking at a golden sun over the snowy mountain’s crest

at this transformative time my Ones remind me what to Manifest.

Stay positive, think of what I want, remember I’m protected.

Especially at times when hope seems to drift away and I’m feeling neglected.

On my snowy, sunny horizon, there’s something anew in store for me.

It’s my next chapter, the one I want, I manifested it, it’s meant to be.

At the Mall

People-watching at the Mall

No problem at all

need to kill some time

need to occupy my mind.

Muted music, somewhere a child screams

Living in a suburban nightmarish dream.

Escalators slink upwards, mocking nearby stairs

I drop my eyes, avoiding conjoining stares.

Midweek shopping is sparse and consumers few

the people here interesting and I enjoy the view.

Teenage girls wasting time after school,

Moms with their kids because it’s gotten to cold for the pool.

Lots of guys by themselves, where are their friends?

The women tend to be in groups, the men lonely and independent.

The stores themselves are gorgeous bright-filled boxes within grey walls;

but empty, people-less, devoid of what they’re for here stalled.

My mind wanters and I lose train-of-thought.

I get excited about something else, I’ve gotten caught up!

All because I’m writing on a napkin

in my lap in

the Mall.

In Honor of Dr. Ford

Courage is not a man

with a gun in his hand.

You have to fight. You have to see it through.

You don’t often win, but, sometimes you do.

“The pen is mightier than the sword”

the ink spills out my anger, word for word.

Catharsis for the soul, for a moment I’m whole

Then the triggers come back, they

Attack! Attack! Attack!

I pull my body in tight, thoughts in my head fight;

What should I do? What is good? What is right?

How can I be heard, from this empty universe, my tiny little voice?

A squeak up to the heavens, my body drowning in the void.

Why didn’t I report: fear, retribution, shame, trauma, disbelief

Why I did report: anger, justice, hope, change, PTSD

For all I lay bare my scars, my shame, my secrets.

I do it to be better, to help, to be a part of this female testament.

I am on display, but I am Courage, with nowhere to hide

You are Cowardice, a shrewd and disgusting vision, covered in lies.