Defeat

by Heather Reed

She waits to get better
hoping one day she'll wake up
and feel it
she sighs deeply
only because she knows
it won't happen that way

moments turn into hours
as the hours make up another day
when she closes her eyes at night
the beauty that dangles beneath
those determined eyes
and heavy heart
rests beside her

sitting tight lipped
with a mouthful to say
like cheeks full of cookies and milk
afraid to laugh
in anticipation of the mess that will explode

rolling over and over in her mind
a pebble turning over among the water
these moments make her feel
all that these moments are not
......defeat

seldom taking pleasure
in what drives her to be better

she seeks a common ground
somewhere to place her feet
to rest beside her mind
between what she feels on the inside
in respect to what is seen
on the outside

tempered thoughts pervade
her weary mind
on the verge of a spill

her finely structured body
those autumn eyes
soft fingertips
delicious lips
sit quietly
amongst the still background of this night
yet her mind
in what is a magnificent stir
remains loud in tone

the mirror reflects
a stare of melancholy
neglected lips
hungry eyes
scattered heart

she knows the truth
that beats its drum
loud and confident
sending echoes through her heart
steering its way
into her mind

as she grasps the notion
that giving breath to the beauty
that lingers patiently on the inside
will bring forth divine love
and a taste for more
she will feel

what you don't see
is how hard she tries
to bring it all full circle

the ache in her heart
the love that derives from that ache
and the unexplainable desire
the divides within her

to love like she has never loved before
let the divine hunger that tests her patience
be fiery and wild

give breath to her ability
to indulge in that beauty
that lies within her
that she feels
is what keeps her alive.


Heather Reed is an avid rock-climber and writer from Shelburne.

Harassment

by Ray Remillard

I turn as I hear
The call of my name.
I hear the words and labels being shouted,
and the laughter and put-downs being shared.
I see the pointing of fingers
and the stare of eyes.

I feel a pain in my heart;
a piercing, stabbing pain
that tears and injures it.
I close my eyes.
A tear flows down my cheek.

I feel comfort filling me then
like a friend holding and hugging me.
I feel my heart being lifted
rubbed and massaged,
held and put together
by the fingers of my God.

He heals my heart
mending and repairing it
He whispers words into me
saying He made me
that I am His
and I am good -
a person of worth and value.

I open my eyes, turn and walk away.
feeling better and bigger
than the harassment that hurts me
and the people that harass me.

Ray Remillard is a native Vermonter.