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Crucifix

I saw a crucifix today;
An antique power pole
Arrayed with white
Fluttering feedsack scrap.
Blown by some miracle of wind?
Or placed
By hands that know too well
The piercing pain?

No figure on this tree
Illumined by
The pale blue headlights of the passing cars.
Is that because it waits for me?
For us?
To take our crosses and be crucified with Christ?
Right here beside the road,
Stripped of crude sacking.
Not in the sanctity of church
Where loving hands paint garments at our waists
To save our shame.
But in the dark, the cold, the hard spring rain
Shivering, alone,
As He'd have felt.
Embrace the cross
As death becomes
New life.

Nest

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Butterfly

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Short Story: The Tavern at the Edge of the Galaxy

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On Friday, I had the privilege of doing Friday Introductions and taking over the stories on the Art Stew 52 Instagram account. The prompt for that week was 'Ship/Boat', so as a group activity, I asked everyone to send me whatever popped into their heads when they thought about boats and ships, and I'd take all of the ideas and write a piece of flash fiction from them. 
Well, there were a lot of ideas, and the flash fiction turned into more of a short story. I think the whole thing, from concept to finished first draft (which I then proceeded to read aloud on a live video) took me about three hours. It was such an interesting experience to write a short story based on other people's interpretations of a prompt, and within a time limit. Definitely something I'd like to do again sometime!
Here's the story (after some editing).








Darrionstumbled into the Tavern at the Edge of the Galaxy. His boots were clumsy and heavy after so many barefooted days in the riggings, a…

Simeon

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Kindnesses (A Remembrance of 2017)

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The soul must cling, sometimes, to memories,
The counting up of kindnesses
And things that make this life a good one:

Chappa lady telling me:
"Don't take those words to heart."
Salted fish and xima on the stairs.
Notes written in a childish scrawl:
For Janie in America
A rubiks cube
Skipping class to make sure I got home
The little gifts
Bright words in the darkness
Closenesses of knowing, being known
The bringing up of festered confrontations
In hopes of understanding and of peace
Eye contact and the honesty of words:
"I almost lost a friend."
(When I hadn't thought it mattered any more).
Long Whatsapp calls
And emails,
Late- night chats
That offered me a lifeline far from home.
The conversations where I cried,
And said mean things,
Accused
Yet still was sure of being loved.
Chocolate
Rusks
A teapot wrapped and warm
Coming in the rain to say goodbye.

Nicknames:
Hermana, maninha, and of course, madame
Facebook message:
Is there any way you could still come…