Month: June 2026

Inevitable

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

Time is the death of us all. 

 We give it fancy names:  

cancer, 
heart attack, 
suicide, 

but at the meat of it,
it’s just time. 

One day that finally comes.
Nothing special: 

just another morning
that chases away the night, 

just another passage of
hands around the face of a clock. 

 After years of figuring out
a way to survive this silly world,
for one reason or another,
we stop. 

 What a relief to realize
survival was never an option. 

 

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In praise of silence

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

It is easy to forget
the sound of one’s voice.

The peaceful practice
of silence and loss can add up to

forgetfulness and leave the mind to wonder
if anything is worth saying at all.

Consider the desire to end the silence;
to create clear and concrete language.

Do you dare
cause a ripple?

Practice  conversation, not just in mind,
but with tongue and air and the movement of lips.

And what relief, what glory, to speak,
to shatter silence with those well-chosen words.

But the more one speaks,
the more often one forgets what was said,

and there is always need for repetition depending
on who is around to hear.

Also, our message is so often lost,
what initiated that long ago lure of speech soon dissipates.

It is then a time to recall the peace of silence
and the ease of observer,

and once again, allow lips to seal and listen
to the mumbled murmur of the morning rain.

 

 

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In the Morning,

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I am going to take my time
crawling to consciousness.

I am going to linger in bed
grasping for silvery dreams,
flirting with the gray light
of dawn outside window.

In the morning, I will allow
myself to fill my lungs with air
and follow my breaths.

I will leisure in sleep,

a curling cat in a cut
of sunshine on carpeted floor,

the last chill of morning chased

from my skin.

I will allow my body to find

its own movement and rhythm.

I will listen to the silence.

In the morning,
before the sun is too high
and the air too cloudy,
I will wander till I reach the river.

Maybe I’ll see the sunflowers again,
that little grove on the north side of the freeway.
Perhaps it will break me to tears
like it did that one day last summer.

Perhaps it will conjure
a release I didn’t know
I was resisting.

 

 

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