Propped upright

Upright because I can breath

no other way
Propped like a doll in a pillow shop
placed snug between designer pillows
Except I’m no designer item
Just a prop
A comfort
a symbol of home
I am home between the pillows
not because of the pillows
I’m home because the stuff inside me
the stuff that fills me to the brim
it’s all I need
whether in a shop

in the arms of a loved one

or left to collect dust
doesn’t matter
I am home

Farm Land

A farm land churned

and over cropped

Fruits of labor plucked year to year

I have no regrets

I’ve fed and nurtured

new life I’ve cradled vulnerable

seedlings not yet ready for the rays

of light that

brighten and burn

Tucked away silent inside

warm dark loved

A symbolic womb with a pulse

pulse pulse

-Saschia