Hold fast to today,
For it flits and it flies,
Up on and away…
Into the vast skies,
Of yesterday.
Where all of us go,
When we leave and grieve,
In the long ago,
As writer’s weave,
And stories sew.
K. Aldaya, 8/3/20
Picture: By Dmitry Ratushny on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/O33IVNPb0RI
Don’t tell us we are many,
For we know, we are one.
Like a colony, we work together,
To do what needs be done.
The distinction of each part,
Matters not upon the whole.
All that matters is that we agree:
Protection is the goal.
We build our walls together,
Or together we will fall.
All is for the one,
And one is for us all.
Arm in arm we stand,
Upon the battlefield,
Stronger in our defense,
With each interlocking shield.
Don’t try and divide our ranks.
Aim your bows and shoot!
For we know we’re stronger as one;
And are firm and resolute.
For each part is important,
And does what needs be done.
So, don’t tell us we are many,…
For we know, We are One!
K. Aldaya, 7/7/20
Picture: From “300“; https://builtbytophat.com/300-can-teach-crisis-communications/
What I used to fear, I now crave.
There is no escape, but for the grave.
The bitterness,…the human plight.
I’m as tired as sleepless night.
I cannot leave,…the night’s not o’er.
I am the moon, and the Earth, the floor.
I hover on high, watch and wait,
‘Til the day time seals my fate.
I will return to dust and light;
Yet until then, I must do what’s right.
I’ve loved too much to spurn my fate.
Sing a lullaby,… it’s getting late.
Go to sleep. There’s not to fear.
And when you wake, please shed no tear.
Within the light, I am still here.
K. Aldaya, 6/17/20
Picture: By Nick Owuor on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/wDifg5xc9Z4
How am I supposed to live,
When no one is willing to accept,
The entirety of my soul?
Every piece of me, broken, is swept…
Under the rug. I’ll never be whole.
How am I supposed to feel,
When society calls me a lie?
And says the face is what is real,
And not the inner voices who cry.
How am I supposed to trust,
When there’s no one fighting on my side?
I’ve learned the judge is far less cruel,
When the truth is denied,…and we hide.
I may be insane, yet I’m no fool.
How am I supposed to live,
When condemned,…buried,…forgotten?
One cannot live when they’re not free.
So I spend my days with paper and pen,
Writing my own wistful elegy,…
That no one will understand.
K. Aldaya, 6/21/20
Picture: https://www.inverse.com/article/7543-how-do-you-die-when-you-re-buried-alive
There is a tall castle,
It looks lovely from the top.
The tower is inviting,
So passersby often go up;
To see the sea of green,
And to the fae, raise bounteous cup.
However, this castle,
Is a most sprawling domain,
With levels and rooms galore;
Though no one wanders without aim,
As each window and door,
Is locked with keys of their own name.
And each key rests below,
In the haunted dungeon halls,
Where the screams of yesterdays,
Still echo through the walls themselves;
And the terrors from those days,
Remain undusted on its’ shelves.
Thence, who would travel forth,
To seek out the truths within?
When blue skies are so pleasant;
And nature moves in expansion,
Adorning the present….
Burying tales without description.
Empty graves, without name.
K. Aldaya, 5/18/20
Picture: Originally by Evan Mitchell on Flickr;
https://wallpaperscraft.com/download/mask_bw_monochrome_124766/3840×2400
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 