Gray Days

Some days are gray days.
Dark clouds. Heavy rain.
No umbrella can help
us stay dry. Some days,
gray days fade to blue.
Most days, raindrops fall
turning seeds into trees.
Some days, the breeze
reminds us of the cold
world we occupy. We try
to get through the gray
days. On the worst days,
we find ways to follow
the light that pierces
the darkness. We have
seen many gray days.
We know it to be tough
when smooth becomes
rough. We know that
life has its ups, downs,
and roundabouts. Life
is full of green grass,
blue skies, gray days
and we are full of life.
Look past the haze;
do not let gray days
take the sunshine away.

Crazy

What is crazy? Who is crazy?
Most people will say different
things. I’m crazy; you’re crazy.
It’s just a word – a crazy word.
We live in a crazy world.
How could we not be crazy?
Maybe those who think others
are crazy are crazy themselves.
Don’t call people crazy because,
maybe, you might make
them believe it. They might be
lost inside a place we can’t see.
I find it crazy that we live in
a world where being crazy is
crazy. It’s crazy. Have I drove
you crazy yet? I bet you were
crazy before you read that.
I’m joking. I must be crazy
to think that. Crazy enough,
we’re not crazy. We’re just
navigating a real daydream.

In the Woods

In the woods, all life thrives.
Animals roam in their home.
Some people choose to move.
Some stay put in the woods –
to experience mother nature.
In the woods, energy changes
without help from human
hands or plans of destruction.
In the woods, this life is good,
like it should be. In the woods,
time stops. Nature goes without
a clock. Life pushes on and on.
In the woods, all worry is gone.

The Violence in Silence

Sure, words can hurt me and you,
but have you ever been ignored?
The silent, but violent, lack-of-noise
should never be explored or adored.
The pain created from nothing soared
in the silence you can always afford.
The hurt can become overwhelming;
The truth in your silence is very telling.
I wish I could extract your thoughts
because you don’t want to talk.
There is no way to connect the dots,
but I notice something in your walk.
The silence surrounding you is heavy
and I want to hear words. I’m ready.
There is a certain violence in silence
that often appears with malice.
We can always think about our words,
but until they’re said, they’ll always hurt.