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

cropped-cropped-textgram_14895228561.png

New England Cafes

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)

 

the unwritten character

Two Baby Girls

She dances while I sleep

And hiccups while I binge watch Netflix

She’s a part of me

One with me

Her sister is my closest friend and family.

She lights up my life with her smile

and makes me feel at home with her presence

Two baby girls to hug and love

to sing and dance with on the kitchen floor

I’m so proud

I’m so proud

-Saschia