The canyons, red-orange and bold,

They are breathtaking Coral.

The cliffs white and tall in sky.

The rock is pale and supple.

The dirt, the soil—it’s ancient

The ground is Micah and Quartz,

It is Marble and Limestone.

The hills are dotted with green;

The hills are still innocent.

The hills were always Turquoise,

The trees here are Malachite.

The air—crisp, sweet, somewhat strange.

The air—new, old.  Breathe deeply

The sky echoes calm silence

The open sky, deep and light

The sky—Lapis Lazuli

Ghosts whisper of things that were.

They are present in Silver.

The night is dark as onyx.

The sun pierces, burns the soul

The sun—it is brightest Gold

This land.  Speaks.

To read some of Kendra’s fiction, go to http://karielle.wordpress.com. 

To read some of Kendra’s research-based writing, go to http://kendrarel.wordpress.com/academic/.

Restless: silence is deafening as

I wait in vain for sleep to come.

                                                                                  I fear it’s the distance between us.

here in my room      

bitter and

defeated

i’m little.

in the corner i’m

alone and

maybe i will disappear

if i sink

into the walls and the floor.

i clench my fists and

i push hard

with my back

but it doesn’t work.

confused tears

spill out—

i can’t stop them.

they echo as

they land

i wish You

had let me

be angry.

i wish You

told me that

it was alright

to be mad.

You get mad.

You get very mad.

i don’t want

to cry.  i’m tough and

i never cry but

it’s all i can do

when

You hit and

when You yell.

i hate myself for

being afraid of

You and not

being stronger than

You.  i hate when You

clench your teeth                                                                                                     

someday i’ll tell You

what You did to me 

Stormed out.

Rough, thick wool is

Little comfort when the door

Whisks open and the cold

Sucks you outside.

The slosh of my boots

She’s too strong.

Didn’t say anything; I just left.

She won’t come after me.

The lights inside rooms, tall buildings,

Restaurants are warm,

Inviting.  Keep my head down.

But under the lamp post at the

End of the street,

I stop.  It’s cold. 

It’s so quiet.  I’m alone. 

No one outside.

I can hear the snowflakes

Descending upon the ground, on

The windows, on the parked cars,

On my hair and ears, on my shoes

And jacket—like a million little footsteps.

Like an old, silent movie

Where you can still hear something.

I’m alone, letting the distant, mechanical

Light hit me.  The crosswalk proceeds:

Orange and white. Hand and man.  Don’t walk.  Walk.

I’m alone, breathing in the icy air. 

I’m alone,

Unaffected by time…

I don’t know how long it’s been.

I turn and glance up at her windows,

The light—comfortable, embracing, wanted.

Does she wish I’d come back?

Your chest             heaved             with breath          in sleep

I put my hand on your cheek,

               Could not take it away.

I felt gravity, a magnet—

Dull, pulling weight.

And I saw the world,

The piercing amber of the sun, the wind, my life—

Rush by your face.

To read more of Kendra’s writing, go to http://kendrarel.wordpress.com/.