A contemporary poem about the shade between, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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There is a shade the chart refuses to name. It appears under tired eyes, in the pause after a verdict, on fruit left too long in the bowl. I wore it home from the meeting. By night it had softened. Even the mirror could not make me choose.
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A free-verse poem about fear, restraint and a match finally struck, where releasing stored danger becomes a quiet act of courage.
A free-verse poem of ash, rain, and a stubborn seed, where survival begins not through pardon but through green forcing its way upward.
Quiet is not absence but a measurable presence that changes according to distance, attention and care.
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