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The clock strikes and all the ticking time pieces around my house diligently reset. The clocks go back…the clocks go back….
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.
A flickering heart amongst the carnage and my eyes started to beat, once, twice and thrice. The electric circuits lodged and embedded deep within my skull. My breaths spattered, scattered and fearful. Yet, none were my last. Blood smothered my lungs, but my heart refused to beat out its last wish.
Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom, prisoners suffering in chains.
If only I had the courage to speak to you articulately and without fear, but I become tongue-tied in your presence as my soul reaches out for your eyes to see. Yet, your eyes…don’t look up…you only see the reflection of my soul in my mirror of contempt. You set into motion a spiralling, tumbling turn of events that crushed the very beating heart of my mind with one simple, swift kiss. However, I’m not giving up, and I am certainly not giving in, so what would I say to you if I had the power? If I was the dealer and I held all the cards?
I would kiss you again and again and again. Damn me to the devil’s pit of delusional despair. Your influence has reached the four corners of the fiery, passionate sun and even if I tried to banish you to the high heavens – your taunting would rain down on me like glittering stars.
I lie in the den of the undead in the darkness before the dawn, where all the unrequited loved ones lay their weary hearts down to heal. It is a place where the devil rests his feet on a poor soul’s consciousness, like a footrest for his roguish delusions. I have been in this den for years and still: you simmer in my mind, as the stars shine down on me and wink at me so mischievously. I see the glint in your eye as you tease me from the boundless moonlit sky, then I remember I offend you with my uncouth behaviour and all the stars go out – leaving me alone in the inky, blackened sky.
In this twilight, I am banished to the shadows of your heart. For a sinner like me, only my tears last the test of time. I have seen lovers come and go, like falling stars, but here in this den of the unrequited is where I come to rest my head at night. For I can love no one else quite like you, and you may say what you like about it.
The clocks strike and go back.
TICK. TOCK. TICK….
07:14
My eyes flutter open and I awake: a Frankenstein Bride.

Suspended belief, like unsettled dust in dark corners of mind, tempt me to breathe. The pain subsides as I dare to hope the worst has passed.

I remember my bloody knees and innocent heart between my teeth as I whispered prayers with hands bound and eyes shut tight.

Decades have passed and still the ink stains my skin with tell-tale sigils seared, while I hope someone, somewhere, might know what they mean.

As I count my scars and most trusted allies, placing tokens of loyalty in deep pockets, I wonder who will sing the dirges of Winter this year.

Here I grip my weapon, a beloved heirloom passed down the lineages of genocide and the shadows of power, blessed by the Bishop Prince.

Dare I trust the turning tide? If the darkness turns light, might I forget how to fight?

Hunger grips my bones while the winds whip my soul. I have held my mind steady like a ghost ship under Huracan.

I fear I have survived, but why?

You have broken the curse.

Have I?

I peer down the crossroads under Priestess’ Moonlight, the tracks of my shadow, donkey hooves and cum stains on the sacred red dirt.

Prophet’s poetry manifests like the warmth of my breath.

Dear God,

What is the meaning of this?

I continue along my path with this song in my heart, like a needle in the night, I remember.

I remember.

Lax’d atmosphere, breezy, sun beaming near
Trees Riesling, birds singing, children play ball outside
Looking around one would’ve never known
So many lives cried and died, some even fried on these Mississippi lines
Sounds of joyful laughs,
Deep rooted
Remembering the screams… Wailing my people shed within these
Mississippi state lines
Oh my history will never be left behind
It’s retain ed in my mind
How can one forget what continues to go on today
Ya’ll better peep game, this shit is still insane
We still being hang’d and who gets the capital gain?!
What a shame
Something to think about before you really start to believe that ya’ azz is really free
Now rest your head, make a difference with ’cha ya’ own
Give live learn
Lax’d atmosphere, breezy, sun beaming near
Trees Riesling , birds singing, children play ball outside
Looking around one would’ve never known
So many lives cried, died some fried on these Mississippi state lines
And you think you free

I want to find my home

I have a feeling of greed

I quest for

A possibility of belonging

One I have for long sought after,

Yet happiness

is ephemeral

Like a shooting star

Crossing the valley

Like a box of supplies

In the middle of scarcity

Freedom,

It seems so far away

to belong

stay

and grasp the souls

of those I meet

always a travel

always a discovery

Words of pain

Glass that cut

Inside the window

A numbed scream

Of a broken household

And the internal turmoil

Of being shattered

Touched by the fire,

by the shadows.

The open heart

to catch a tear,

a smile, a feeling,

Everything and anything

to feel alive.

—

A brotherhood of winter birds
Acclimate above the snow
At the feeder we can barely
Keep full

Gentle Mother’s white blanket
Has touched us all with a new
Silence. Comfort inside
Terror and chills without
The wild survive somehow

A new gun shot across the street
At Shute Park. Just one shot
this time.
I run to the window
See nothing except snow.
Two men leaving each other.
One still
One running
No bodies. No blood to show.

A return to innocence
Appearances
For now

Inside out
I’m irritable after days
Being snowbound
Four inches more on the way
Tonight.

The silence is thick.
Light is blinding from the Sun.

Two nights ago at dusk and
Light fluffy snow falling
Giggles and laughter from
Kids enjoying their first snow
In the deep dark.
Videos, selfies,
Multiple gunshots a block away
The laughter stops.
Resumes with a peculiar humor
At the absurdity of life and death
On a hair trigger, and
then they are
Gone.

More snow on the way
The thick blue comforter
Spares us all night.
Space heater, door closed
To steward the heat.
The rest of the house
left to the struggling HVAC
Already in auxiliary mode.

We have power, heat.
Food, friends in our bubble.
Fireplace with fire and
Breakfast casserole to share.

We disregard the bullet holes
Only to find joy in closeness.
Proximity to the frailty.
Life is precious. Absurd.
Glorious and fleeting.
Depending where you are.
Who you are.

For now the snow gives the
Semblance of equal grace.
It melts with rain next week.

A brotherhood of birds at the
Feeder. We keep our
Bargain with wildness.

Feminism by definition is equality of the sexes by right
There are good guys wiling to fight
The sun shines bright in the day, the moon at night.

Wo-Man, Fe-Male have unfortunate masculine tendencies for her
Unfair sexist innuendos can hurt and deter
Strong independence, sharp mind are weapons for sure…

Our bodies are different, but united they create life
First step is to court, love, then become a wife
Most Men promise not to cause her strife…

We are a separate gender this much is true
This should not forge inequality for me and you
Many years of suffrage, not to misconstrue…

To vote, to drive, to work is all they desire
Pull their weight, if qualified then hire
Equal wages will be baptism by fire…

As many years have passed us by
We should have learned not to turn a blind eye
No more excuses, if unsure, then ask why(?)!

Softly, quietly

Smoothly flowing inside.
Softly, softly
Quietly flowing ever.

Fragrant warm shadows
That call throughout the night
In serene even tones
And redundant compulsion.

Ever so smoothly in even means,
In quiet lanes and lilac fancies
And hushed violet strengths
To flow forever so smoothly
Into the darkness.

The river at night,
The quiet babbling brook.
The place not to be
In the middle of the darkness.
The closeness of death
And the quiet soft brook.

The smooth even rock
In the primordial forest.
Oh how we hope
There are not, there are no…
There are
High-flying screams
Of lurching pterodactyls
Flying in the gathering night.

In the graying dusk
Their terrified screams
And petrified trees
That stand on bleak edges
And wait for the life
That waits for the death of the night.

Black evil strength
That forces from them
And terrifies the night.
The smooth even flow
Of the ancient pterodactyls.

With wings
Whisking horribly in even tones
In quiet ravines,
In primordial forests
That are marshy and green.

By soft tinkling streams,
Waiting for the blackness of their cry
And waiting throughout the night.

We wait by soft tinkling streams
In ever-lush forests
And hear not
The cries in the night.

Does it get any easier I cried with grief in my eyes?
He tilted his head and sighed as he caressed his throat and his lips began to curl.

Then out came a lamenting reply, mumbling a subtle no and a nimble hand to my shoulder.
An overwhelming embrace and as the tears welled the truth became unveiled.

He explained, this is it kid better familiarize yourself with the elusive side of life.
Elicit your interests but not just for momentary instants.

It’s time to make up your mind and defeat your strife.
Realize your potential and forget about the adverse memories that cause affliction interminable.

He took a step back and held a curious smile. We aren’t much different you and me.
They come and go, the cheerful laughs and unwilling sorrow.
The only difference is I’ve found relief.

You’ve been all glitz and glamour up until now, don’t hold out on me let me know how.
A brief pause and a silent inhale, then the solution was expelled

Put down your tongue and open your heart, for the internal war isn’t finished,
but has only begun and you’re toe to line at the start.

Your advice has been cut and dry and has given me something to ponder. Do I know you from before?
He extended his hand for me to shake and said, my child more than you think.

I am you and you are me. As I grasped his hand in wonder, he dissipated into an electric mist
holding the remnants of a memory.

I’m only longing for connection.
It’s been like this for over two years.
I used to run in dreams direction,
But now I’m simply walking down the stairs.

I haven’t lived that long but been through plenty.
My journey has begun so long ago.
I write these words to keep grasp on my sanity.
Not sure how much of it is left to show…

I’m desperately longing for connection.
For somebody to see just who I am.
Not stereotype of foreigner reflection,
Not just a wife in shadow of a man.

No human should feel like less of a person.
No soul should feel it lives in golden cage.
No heart should live hiding true emotions.
No mind should scream in burning rage.

I’m drowning, longing for connection,
I’m walking on the mirror’s edge.
No longer see my own reflection,
It has been stuffed behind the stage.

I’m building castles and they burn to ashes,
I’m fighting air flows and typhoons all by myself.
I built, adopt, rebuilt and yet again it crashes.
Will ever be a hand there when I fell?

I’m mourning days when I have felt connection.
I’m missing times when I have felt alive.
I’m done. Enough! I must regain possession
Of making choices and living my own life.

Like Phenix rising from the ashes,
I once again intend to rise and stand.
My eyes will once again regain bright fire flashes.
I’ll fight for life until the very end.

by Polla-Ilariya Kozino

Transformation Map

An over- 50 women who is controlling and unable to trust others…

An over-50, women who has not had the courage to follow her dream…

An over-50, overburdened, compulsive caregiver whose identity is wrapped up in saving her dysfunctional family…

An insecure woman, who is obsessively saving her dysfunctional family, gains insight and confidence that she cannot change them…

A 51-year-old women who is preoccupied with saving her dysfunctional family gains clarity of her powerlessness to change others who don’t want to change, by finally pursuing her dream of making a documentary film uncovering the facts around her sister’s death to an opioid overdose.