Cradle

There is sound from the neighboring room. There is sound and it’s an instrument being strummed. And there is a voice singing. There is a voice, and it’s singing in a tongue I don’t know. It’s singing a song and it’s soothing to me. It’s soothing and it’s swaddling my ailing mind.


Grasping for Words

Often as a writer I pour over whether what I am writing is something that should command any attention. I reach out for the ethereal words to grasp them from the semi-opaque vapors in my mind that pass for thoughts, trying earnestly to say something significant. It is nearly inexpressible how I often feel that this is an exercise in futility: I can never say it well enough. It will fail, I fear… I believe. I even wrote an untitled poem back in early March that I posted on my personal Instagram (@prramer) that spoke to this feeling of inevitable failure at words.

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As I Am

It is gentle, soft, and whiteAnd tender, vulnerable, and pinkFull of uncertainty but comfortableI ask for nothing, expecting nothingYet there may be a home here for my soulMy heart is thankful for small gesturesI don’t know when I have ever felt so welcomeTo enter and remove the coat of my privacy and self-protectionTo seat my … Read more As I Am