Sorry forgot to put up Day Six last night! Here it is! The birds sat perched on tree tops that never registered their feather weight But still, I wonder Do birds sit in tree tops for the view?

Day Five. Found on the outskirts of you, A new being began. Born from the puddles of summer rain; Constructed from the petals of May flowers; Lost in a season not of its own kind But of a colder climate that strips beauty By the roots and plucks petals placed on eyelids Like coins for Charon on a cold winter day. This deification of displaced days Is lost in the blur of a summer breeze Caught in the heart of a winter waiting on change. But without a place to lay their heads The tulips bow under the weight of a season Celebrated too soon.

Day Four. I dreamed today you died. the hollowed out belly of the earth was not a great enough grave for you. Tulips with streaks of unknown hues planted in every corner of the world just so every time I saw them I knew it was a part of you.

Day Two. cage confined and cradled tight the canary couldn’t find the voice to sing as the woman wrapped in wrinkles kicked the cage again sucking in on violent air that ends a voice before it begins. ashes tapped into the maw of a porcelain tray brought to lips again a kiss of death placed upon your own lips with a falsified promise to be made new. the canary lost its voice in the labyrinth of the woman’s smoke so even when the cave comes crashing down the canary could only let out a smoky whisper to lead their ghosts down the tunnel’s solitary way where once was solid, returns to the unformed void.

Day Three. she never knew what her summersong sounded like until the drifting harmonies where swept away with the fallen leaves like old headlines faded on newspapers smeared by autumn rain that unlike spring brought a downpour with no pretense for blossoms

Day One. Trap snapped shut Bones crack like the crackle of fire Hair bristles like a soldier’s salute to the grave Arms folded like American flags Trying to pull in the pain Gathering it slowly like a child to your chest Cradle this cacophony of chaos Like a bullet ricocheting in your brain I am the fox with barred teeth under snarling lips Peeled back like onion skin from the bone white beneath With frantic eyes and fearful heart Waiting for the hunter to find me.

The month of April is poetry month and to celebrate I am taking up the mantle of a challenge to write a poem every single day of this month. Be it short or long, I will try to put something poetic up everyday. I am going to try out short poems which I have never really done before, so bare with me as I try something new.

This day marked the end of the first leg of our journey in Israel. We woke up early, bags packed, and lined up on the curb like children waiting to board the school bus for their first day of class. We ate our last breakfast at Nof Ginosaur and watched the waves lap on the beach, our last sight of the Sea of Galilee. It was a sad and exciting moment to leave behind the place we had called home for the last three days in order to branch out and find a new home in Israel. We had one stop on the way before out final destination for the day could be reached; we had eight new members to pick up and join our merry crew. ...

The robins came in the rain To take the worms away. Mother told me they were drowning And the birds lent their wings For a rescue mission That taught the creatures Of the earth, what the sky Felt like beyond just a dream. That the robins whisked them away From mud puddles deeper Than the well I watch Father dig That seemed to stretch from earth Back to sky all over again. Mother told me worms couldn’t swim Because their arms never grew right. Kind of like how I never grew right. Will the robins save me When the waters come too high? Of course they will honey, And they will teach you to fly. ...

My mind is full of egret eyes. Swiveling movement like the weight At the end of a fishing line, Pulling the hook serrated and sharp Into the darkest parts of the sea That only fish with grey translucent eyes Can see with something more than sight That illuminates the darkest parts of this world. I feel disturbed like the jellied eye Of a fish left too long in the sun; Poked by innocent hands seeking fun. My mind is pierced by shrieks of delight As children run away, cringing in fright; A game played by children in a twilight too dark To be anything else but night. ...