Andi Leigh Writes

The light around us glows stronger, In very little time. And that is how we know we'll grow— Our journey told through pantomime.

A snake named Uncertainties, With venom seeping from thoughtful fang, Seeks to push me off the edge Of a secluded cliffside no one sees. An uphill struggle born for me— And the snake called Uncertainties.

Why do I wait for things to turn? Instead, I should grab life by the shoulders, Look into its eyes, and make it see my future. No more hand-holding, I am alone. That is okay. Alone is okay. And waiting for others to begin to live Should not stop my life in still tracks. I will not wait for me no longer. I'll never be ready. That is okay. Though I must go and the stillness Holds me no more.

Effort not put forth the same, Causing dismal chest pains. Alone in world, endeavors cast, Ripping open wounds of past. Set aside, an afterthought, Undeserving, left distraught.

Lies I tell myself Act like pollen in the breeze. Creating sickness.

Remind me of the lonely rooms, The empty-headed simplicities. Will ignorance bring delightful bliss? I'm cursed with eccentricities.

How courageous are the twin pine trees, Like sisters doomed to learn to love. Since hostility delivered bitter tastes In their mouths during life before. With eternity placing them To face furious winters, with bitterness Worse than spiteful words from nettled blood. So they learned to lean on each other, With newfound compassion watering Their lush and lovely needled branches. And maybe when the twin pines die, The sisters will keep their improved truths, Coming back closer than they ever were.

She can hear his heartbeat Pitter-patter on her windowpane. Rolling dewdrops rage, Like falling stars, Until she lets him in. But it is muggy outside And she has no room For flooded groundwork. Yet, he may not wish to wait Until the bricks are set. Storms consume the tinkering Heartstrings left out In the downpour. The pitter-patter ceases As it remains warm indoors.

Look at the starlight. Stardust hits my eye and I See everything clear.

Bottle cap button cufflinks. Pinned to linen sleeves. A project worthwhile, From small hands. With chipped paint decorating The brassy aluminum. Now a keepsake stored away In a shiny glass box. A conversation piece To warm hearts And to remember Who was lost.

I heard a sound and I did not tremble. Not a shudder or teary eye. And I am glad I heard the sound; Reminding me that I Have not died. I heard a sound And it took me back. It took me to a time When I was small. And terror fails To strike attacks, It lacks persuasion, And now I am tall.