Limerick
Confessions of a grieving disabled workaholic
My trip to San Francisco was supposed to be the greatest trip of my life. In some ways it was and in others it wasn’t. As I grow older, as my disability progresses and as my grief deepens, it sometimes feels like I’m constantly under attack. Like no place is safe for my body and no hands are safe for my heart. Grief is not something you overcome, it’s a tide you pray won’t crash onto you at the worst possible moment, and when it does, you learn to deal with it. Or at least I suppose, I’m not there yet.
By Allie Pauld5 months ago in Poets
The Language of Falling Leaves
🍂 Introduction: When Nature Teaches Us to Begin Again Every season carries its own poetry, but autumn speaks in a language unlike any other. The falling leaves are not just signs of endings—they are whispers of renewal, reminders that change, though sometimes painful, is necessary for growth.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
Ten Seconds Before the Train Arrives
Ten seconds. The station smells of rain-soaked concrete and old newspapers. Somewhere down the track, metal wheels hum like a distant storm. The display says Arrival: 0:00, but the train hasn’t yet broken through the tunnel’s mouth.
By waseem khan5 months ago in Poets
