Building bridges, not walls
‘The bruise, I saw it on his arm. Summer morning at my old house. The day Grandad came to help Mama with packing all our stuff. Gabriel and I were on the street, playing tag, and he fell over. I helped him up and he tried to get away like crazy, but I saw it. It was big and purple. No bruise would go purple in three seconds. He pulled his sleeves down as much as possible and it became his ritual from then on. ‘
‘After almost a month passed and we had not heard from you, my father asked your mother if he should approach his friends in the police department and look for you. but your mother refused. ‘I know my daughter. she will not come back unless she wants to. she doesn’t want to, yet.’
I sat on the raw wood bench outside the hut. The sun had yet to show from behind the rugged … More
On the Road to Ormskirk I find pavement I have driven before in another state, across a border, across an … More
Sleet turned to hail as the sky darkened into evening. An occasional streetlight still functioned, flickering with a dull orange … More
THE WANDERING BARD 