Andi Leigh Writes

Who would want to be swept Into the shadows— Treated like an inconvenience, A dust bunny that needs To be wiped away— I am not a serial doormat Or a vial emptied—its purpose Served— There is no need to cast Doubt— Your discomfort is no concern Of mine When all you'd wish to happen Is for me to disappear.

What do you do When you have unaccomplished days— Tasks are left on lists to fend For themselves, Errands are impatiently waiting Just to find out their precious time Has been rescheduled At an unknown date, or if they're lucky, Maybe tomorrow. The only thing you are capable of Getting done Is making sure you're taking the time To breathe— So go ahead a breathe— That's accomplishment enough.

Why are there secrets hidden Under the wallpaper— Whispers Under layers of Distraction and movement That have the urge To drape a sense of stability Upon eyes that cannot View the mildew underneath— When will it be time To tear the peeling barriers Away from rooms we need To repaint— No one wants To see what lurks— Their eyes are only drawn To the surface-level patterns.

When life flies by We can always catch up With wings of our own. Just care for the feathers And let their colors Grant ambition. Life won't be able To escape us then.

We are the fortunate—we have our blood When we cannot grasp for pens in time. We are unbothered when blisters form— They swell and we are the ones who run. When we cannot use our impassioned voices We utilize the power of our salient eyes— Staring into the depths that wish to haunt— There is still time for idle pleasantries. We are the armored monsters deemed Too soft—when we are simply humanity.

There is a softness In the words That are whispered Beyond the shouts That fill our ears like Cotton, Stopping the truth from Reaching hearts That beg for Forgiveness. We must listen As close as we can, Just listen To anything That tries to dig To our very center. I know I will wait for Any determined piece.

An unexpected Crater Can devastate Places Once Called home. We can shape A new life Right in The center.

After the smell of rain, Tears may dry. The candlelight May flicker the past Onto the wall— A small show that never Ends, A strong show within A storm, A relief when the Shadows melt With the candle wax, And the rain dims.

Dark cherry rests Upon the heart left to know The realness of the world Beyond open doors, Beyond the softness of the Light pouring through Stained glass. There is nothing and also Everything out there Beyond the familiarity Of the tartness that sleeps Within wounds.

Fingers like fiddleheads, Weak knees like One-thousand-year-old Trees, Justice in a life lived long— Making the wear and tear Worth it all.

I will not heed the laughing rain As it bankrupts the solid ground Beneath my shadow. I can write in my mind that I am Autonomous And able to sling from my boots The mud It's attempting to entomb me in. The chortles are nothing more Than a sickly breath. I am done listening to complaints As it attempts to dissolve me. I will not heed the desperate rain.

A thick Blue comforter Is like An inviting ocean, Soft And ready to Sweep you away To places Beyond what your Waking eyes Allow.

I would rather have rainfall Instead of snow. The presence of snow Reminds me of hard work In the early morning. My spine cannot take The weight of heavy snowfall But then again, The rain makes it hard To drive in the dark while cars And streetlights send me their Eye-cutting prismatic shards. I think I'd still rather be led astray By the rain.

We have left orange peels In places we do not want Our cats to go. If only they would stay off The kitchen counters And stop scratching at The fragile bedroom door. The orange peels help But the curious boys Are not the only ones who Dislike the citrus smell.