Step one foot at a time
hope for joy
accept but don’t settle
look both ways
but don’t get stuck waiting
for a green light
Under Construction
There’s construction on the bridge
makes me not want to cross it
even though the construction
is being done underneath
it just slows things down
There must be another way
-Saschia
Where
Days grow
Nights shrink as I adjust my legs
There is a place here for me
Awake
not in some dreamy state
Grounded not drifting
-Saschia
Elsewhere
The distractions are monstrous
the drive to replace the mask of positivity
and the plague of territorial jealousy
like a jack in the box I never wound
but I love when it rains
and I love when you show your true face
the rugged one
the one you’ve hidden in your arm pit
insisting it be swiped with deodorant
the stink you wish only to release on your death bed
that is the one I wish to see
that is where love lies
-Saschia Johnson
Rainy Days
rain drums the roof of my car
inside dry
warm
satisfied and full of
stars and fables
full of life
no crisis
no resolutions
just existence
-Saschia
Caged from Words
I pace back and forth
like a caged animal
waiting
for a stray hand
and an unsuspecting little one
Maybe just one time they won’t pay attention
and I can slip them between the bars
Some eye me down
and to show them who’s boss
I lick my lips
and then theirs
and then my own once again
swallow your advice
and slide me something
I can sink my teeth into
-Saschia Johnson
I write…
I write to make my own world a better place.
-Saschia
Doors
Through The Dark
Beautiful words as usual from Sarah Doughty
“I’ll keep trying to find my way through the dark.
Find my way back to you.”
Peace is something I’ve been searching for. Sometimes I find it, but it’s always fleeting. Perhaps it’s just me, but it feels as though I’m stuck on a turntable, unable to find my way back to where I need to be. Maybe one day, I’ll find that solace again. But until then, I’ll keep trying to find my way through the dark. Find my way back to you.
© Sarah Doughty
Because I know, sooner
or later, I’ll get through it.
Artists
The road winds in a manner
that seems as if I keep walking in circles
but there are very subtle differences
differences only a curious person would notice
like the flowers are a different shade of blue
or the bugs are crawling on their backs rather than their bellies
Makers of art wander on and off this road
collecting things
while others trudge trudge doing the same thing
over and over
Artists do at times get caught in the monotony of it all
because we are one of the others
however our path is different
it is of more depth
less conformity
(which might I add is much harder than it sounds)
Our satchels fill with old cocoons left behind by butterflies,
odd shaped rocks,
and twigs wrapped in twine
left as symbols of where we’ve been
or left to warn of places we dare not tread again
So it may seem as if we are constantly stuck
in the same ole rigamaroe but trust me
We are not.
-Saschia
(Yes, I wrote rigamaroe)
Jayne.press 