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There was a year when fall turned into winter And winter stayed forever. The leaves gave up early, Tired of performing A task with no end And no meaning. Words, now spoken out loud Hung heavy between us Unreturned arrows And two empty quivers. We packed our cars With clothes, and shoes, and silence. Soaked…
You leave in silence, the kind that lives in your bones before you ever give it permission. You leave when your body mourns things you haven’t lost yet— the house, the rhythm, the people who love you but can’t see you clearly Anymore. You leave slowly. You leave clumsily. You leave while still trying to…
My heart lives in Kansas City, though the rest of me is scattered Like a ghost on borrowed highways, Driving towards a home I know I’ll never find. It wasn’t the skyline that held me, not the fountains or the jazz, but something quieter— your laughter in a kitchen light, a porch in November, the…
Mud-slick, mission-minded gathering sticks and deadlines. My spine a scaffold for someone else’s dream. Bridges no one asked for. A meticulously built life— washed away without a second thought. There was once a need to stack the world into silence. Pressed against the current, teeth gnawing lines into chaos. Every structure had reason. Every danger…
Kedar Karkare, PhD 