Friday, March 6, 2015

Up in Flames

Smoke obscures my vision.
It burns my nose.
This is not the pleasant smoke of
a winter bonfire.
I fan my hand in a vain attempt
to find fresh air.
This is how I destroy things.
My hope of being the mother
I've always wanted to be,
of making a difference,
of changing the world.
My dreams always end up
going up in flames.
My eyes tear up from
smoke? Sadness?
Wiping away the tears
I bring myself back to reality.
This is just dinner.
I've burnt dinner before.

(Written 3.6.15)


  1. Mistakes will be made. Dinners will be burned. (I've ruined many ...) And there is always tomorrow. A new day to try our best again -- to make a difference and change the world, one day at a time!

  2. You have a beautiful voice in this piece, contrasting deep fears with gentle realities. Thank you for sharing your talent!

  3. This is such a neat slice. (Sorry about dinner). loved the rhythm and style.

  4. Better dinner than dreams, for sure!

  5. Being a fine mom and making dinner need not be connected. We can disconnect the two, not make one mean more that it ever has to.
    I feel the pain and uncertainty as I read this powerful piece.