Bread Not Stone

I asked for bread, not stone.
I am breaking my teeth on the rocks in my mouth.
The sharp edges of the gravel are tearing my throat.
I cannot digest these stones.
If I survive their passage, I will not be stronger.

I asked for a fish, not a poisonous serpent, scorpion or snake in the grass.
The poison fills me as soon as I open my mouth to shape the word "no."
There is no nourishment for my body or soul in this most unwelcome meal.

I am still hungry.

Turning a Page

Today I threw away some things that I had treasured:
words mostly, and also hopes and dreams and  unanswered prayers.

Can I Tell You How I Really Feel?

There are all sorts of currency in relationships.
There are all sorts of ways to be used and spent.
And there is a poverty that transcends money.

Shattered Dreams

I have dreamed a dream...
And now that dream is gone from me.