Painted walls along sterile halls, echo with the sighs and loud, piercing cries, of souls trapped in weak fragility- web-like crevasses and lines etched deeply into paper-thin, translucent skin. Memories behind plexiglass, encapsulate lives into touching points along a timeline- though tears pool behind clouded eyes reliving each vivid moment as though it was, only ...

As soon as Jasper had regained both his composure and his feet, the caretaker turned towards Zoe, and it felt like time stood still.  She met his mesmerizing gaze and instinctively knew he was much more significant than a gardener.  “You’re beginning to see,” the caretaker said with a wink. “That apron looks good on ...

Zoe got up and paced. “The only thing I could let you into would be the garden. No, not the ones you saw as you drove up… the one that is hidden. That’s my family’s legacy, only it’s the women in my lineage who have been the keepers of the key - I am the ...

Countless cascading celestialstars, spinning, singing,flashing, fizzlinga fiery end onvast vibrant valiantdisplayetched eternalhumanoptic array. Sweeping swirls swingacross canvass cleanlayers of lightupon indigo nightsmortal handsremake theglistening tailsgleaming goldenfalling starmasterpiece. Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash

Furnace downstairs hidesthe pointy-nosed bogeymanclimbs out to chase me. Neck hairs stand up straightcement wall Chief’s headdress shadow,no window across. Old witch cackles whilestoking two hot grey ovens,we lay bound, waiting. Drums beat, voices chantmoccasin feet start to danceno one hears but me. Paralyzed by fearI open my mouth to screamand nothing comes out. Photo ...

Grief and loss most profound Teeters on shaking ground Molten rivers of tears Erupt from latent fears Mouth silenced by a mask Pressured to take the vaxx Division, hatred, strife Slowly devalues life Media’s shame and blame Stokes embers into flames As depression taunts Loss of freedom haunts  Our dreams. Photo by Alex Dukhanov on ...

The blue-green grass, which ran the length of the centre path, extended outward into a large meadow. It looked freshly mowed. By whom? The urge to take her shoes off and run across it was strong, but Zoe resisted. Until she knew the layout of these gardens, it was wiser to stay on the path. In ...

My twelfth summer – the ocean of my innocence – cast an asteroid into my sea – pulling me down, like a milestone around my neck. Gigantic ripples broke the time barrier, touching every moment forward, etching every word wielded as a whip, like the rings inside a tree. The catalyst imploded the house of ...

Zoe watched Mr. McEwan's lapis-blue eyes light up the moment he saw the key she was holding. “I don’t imagine you’d remember how to get to the garden?”

Wildfires rage in parts of Canada and the USA this summer. This poem was inspired by my own experiences both on the prairies and on an island off the west coast of Canada.