In the Cards

“I don’t believe in fate,” Dalia said, crossing her arms and glaring.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe in fate; fate believes in you,” Charlton sighed, pointing at the tarot cards spread out in the bench between them. “Fate says you are going to meet your soulmate this week. Or die, I sometimes can’t tell.”

“Thanks, Char, that’s helpful,” Dalia said, shooting him her trademark you’re-being-an-idiot look.

He just shrugged. “The cards are mysterious, that’s all.”

“How can you tell me ‘the cards are mysterious’ and that fate is real and you know what it is? At the same time? It’s all crap, and you know it.”

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Connected Thoughts

Pen on paper, smooth
Flow of words to page, trying
To set myself free.

–

How do you connect
When you are so terrified
Of your own damn mind?

–

Why are all my thoughts
In the form of a question?
Never an answer.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Allegiance to What?

Red, for the blood that
Is spilled in this land, not just
Left in history.

White, for the bones that
Lie forgotten, waiting for
Their recognition.

Blue, for the sky that
Watches everything, and can
Only weep for them.

I see no valor,
No innocence, no justice,
When I look at you.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Poor Choices

“How was I supposed to know it was haunted?” Jacob asked, watching as the shadows started swirling ominously, and the temperature plummeted.

“I don’t know,” Jade replied, glaring at him. “Maybe it was the obscure dialect written in blood, on an ancient artifact you stole from an unmarked grave at an archeological dig?”

Echoing laughter filled the air, and Jade felt something pull at her hair. She batted at the air around her head, but connected with nothing.

“Well, besides that!” Jacob said, his eyes flicking around the room, knowing something was there, just out of sight.

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A Good Yarn

What would it be like,
If we could patch together our memories
Like a stitched-together blanket?

Would some be worn thin,
Barely holding together and ragged
From years of remembering?

Would some be bright,
Always catching our eye and recalling
Memories, good or bad?

Would there be holes,
Where we know memories once lived
But we can’t find anymore?

Would there be a narrative,
The memories moving one to another
Or just a jumble of moments?

Would there be dark parts,
Things we wish weren’t in our blanket
But are holding it together?

Would there be little spots,
Dotting the surface that bring smiles
Even in moments of darkness?



What would your blanket of memories look like?



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Hidden Messages

Thunder thrashes in the sky, each strike filled with rage.

Under their blankets, children cower in fear.

Every rattle of the house, sends them deeper under the covers.

Some dream of a better day, the sun warm and breeze mild.

Darkness creeps around each corner, hiding secrets great and small.

Against all odds the storm abates, sending them out into glorious sunshine.

Yet the wise among them know, the storm is never really over.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Casual Observations

“Because there’s still a fucking pandemic! I know, it’s one thing if you have to go out for your job, like if you’re an essential worker or whatever, but come on, swanning around town because you’re bored, not distancing or wearing a mask, and being pissed at so-called ‘oppression’ is just such bullshit! And so stupid. There is real oppression out there, and it’s not affecting these assholes who are being asked to wear a mask.”

Hmm, Milo thought, watching his human storm around the kitchen. Something’s got her all riled up. He flicked his tail, content to perch on his carpeted tower. All the better to survey his domain. His human had been spending a lot more time at home lately. At first, it had annoyed Milo, but he’d quickly gotten used to having her around. He actually preferred it, not that he’d ever let her know.

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Grab the Clippers

Bzzz.
Weight falls like Atlas
Dropping the world.

Bzzz.
Gone are rules of beauty
That confine us.

Bzzz.
Gone are expectations
That drown us.

Bzzz.
Gone are capitalistic necessities
That indebt us.

Bzzz.
There is freedom in the lightness
And a clarity in the air.

Bzzz.I am myself.

Bzzz.I am beautiful.

Bzzz.I am free.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020