Title: Idol

I've been dreaming of people I've never met.

Shared intimate moments — both laughter and tears shed.

I wonder if that's how they will remain:

fuzzy figures in the realm where my consciousness escapes.

I know they love, they learn, they wish.

I know their names — yet here's the twist:

to them, I'm a ghost, a ghoul, a myth.

Or perhaps even less —

to them, I don't exist.

I miss the bonds with all the ones I built with hope,

yet as far as I know,

I carry that hope alone.

Customs Ignored

I feel mud in my boots, blood on my face.

I watch my father bark orders. I dare not join him.

I wonder what he thinks has become of me. Maybe he thinks I’m dead.

“Many speak of a young soldier who rallied them when all hope seemed lost. They say that solider is you.”

He’s a stranger, this man beside me. He’s dressed in fine clothes.

“They exaggerate.”

“That so? From what I hear they would have turned tail if not for you, our lines would’ve broken. Our king claims he owes you a debt.”

“Spoken to our king often, have you?”

“Enough. Not nearly as often as you, your highness.”

I freeze at the title, one I left behind, one he shouldn’t know.

“Excuse me?”

“You look like her. Your mother’s death was years ago, it’s been longer still since last I saw her, but I haven’t yet forgotten my own niece.”

An old memory, almost gone. My mother’s brother: young rebellious, better forgotten.

There is no hiding from this wild child, now a...

Love Of The Sea

He was but a boy when first we met, a child grasped in his parents’ arms. He was but a boy visiting the sea for the first time, a child enchanted by our waves. He was a fisherman’s son and his heart would be forever ours.

We rolled in and out before him as his family thrived upon our waters. He would splash through our shallows as winds skimmed our surface and birds dove to fill their beaks. He was content with life and we were content with him.

One day as he walked our shores we bestowed a gift upon him.

We dove deep into our depths to dig it up, prying it from the sediment and up into our waters. We lapped at his legs to deliver it, pushing it closer with every sweep. We fled and left it before him.

“Wow,” we heard him whisper as he reached down to grasp it.

We watched as he lifted it from our sands.

It was a shell made hundreds of years prior, crafted, tended, then abandoned. We’d covered it, preserved it, and gave it to him as a gift, from one friend to ...