Tangents Stories

Walls

There I sit, in this room with walls walls high up to the cosmos impenetrable walls constructed with shadows and recorded memories on a repeated loop that can not be deleted or pushed aside it lingers time stands days get lost into cloudy forecasts there is no tomorrow no yesterday no now just walls built up to the cosmos to protect me from the pain of the memories that lingers that keeps me lock in the prison of walls that I build to shield me from the memories that lingers … READ MORE BY

The Last Christmas Dinner

I never see you in my dreams, only  in my memories. And in a moment, as the first sight of snow  begins to fall,  I can still see you,  all those years in the past. We all arrived that night  for our Christmas dinner in that nice restaurant, before they tore it all into something else, and turned it into something you wouldn’t recognize. The flocks of tour buses that line their gates now stumble through the doors in their praise, but  you and I know what they  really missed. You sat near the

Colours

What you showed me was not what you told me when you asked me to sing “Jesus Loves the Little Children” — red, yellow, black, white — a notable exception of brown. You told me of a rainbow but not a rainbow flag. You showed me Jerusalem on a map, but not Yerushalayim.  Nor did you tell me of the brown blood in our own veins, not enough to see in my face, but  enough that I wish you wanted it to show. READ MORE BY CINDY SITES-WOOLEY Cindy Sites-Wooley feed READ MORE TANGENTS POETRY Tangents