from diary (unknown)

teach yourself to be kind again

start small: seven words to appraise

the hark of the lyrebird,

pressed flower-stems folded between bible pages

crisp linen dampened with the dense lichen

of the forest floor

once you learn to do these,

i pray your burnt heart and sun-kissed throat

and the vast expanse of your soul

will find peace.

peace... in the knowledge that the past is dead and

the future merely a cruel trick played on us

by some mean spirited fae.

i hope the marigold-washed fields of your thoughts

catch ablaze in the light of your acceptance.