May 2025
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not just one day.. “The Walk Down Gravel”for Mr. Graham, Vietnam Veteran It’s Sunday.The grass glistens with dew—tiny glass beads strunglike prayers along every blade,hydrating the earthfor the coming summer heat. Across the street,Mr. Graham’s black trash can stands at attention—a quiet salute to the curb,ready for duty.Only, it’s not trash day. Tuesday is the
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What the Mirror Cannot Holdfor the one who stays This morning, again,I looked into the mirror.Not to admire—but to assess the damage.A wrinkle deepens by my mouth.My skin forgets its old light.A tenderness in my jointssings its low, persistent song. The world does not mourn this shift.It sells creams and knivesand digital masks.It tells me—I
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“Some people leave quietly. Others leave a silence that echoes for years.”— Unknown i packed our memoriesin a suitcasestamped return to senderbut the postage was dueand no one would pay so i carry you stillfolded between my ribslike a crumpled letterthat once said foreverbut now only bleeds you made everythinga little more beautifuleven the sadnessthat
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It’s 4 p.m., and my inbox is a graveyard of emails that feel important but probably aren’t—digital paperweights holding down nothing but my will to live. The world spins on. Whether I reply today or tomorrow won’t matter to anyone, least of all me. Earlier, I take my mother to the doctor. Routine physical, except
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Daily writing prompt Are you a leader or a follower? I do my best to lead by example and follow Christ Jesus!
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it is everythingi can dojust to feel the low humbuzzes behind my eyesand the tearsdo not ask permissionthey fall i wipesalt from my facewith the same handsi once usedto fold in prayer i promised Godi would hold on but i forgethow many timesi’ve promisedand unpromised he got me throughoncethat one timethat almost ended me and
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“Some loves are written in duet, but end in solo—not because the song was wrong, but because the silence asked for something new.” bb grey The crescendos quiet now,fortes fading to a hush,sixteenth notes slipping into silence,rests long enough to echo absence. Once, we were music,her right hand, light and wild,dancing treble,mine the left—rooted, steady,the
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The questions rattle like wind-chimes in a storm,searching the horizon where the sky kisses the sea,that blurred and trembling placewhere I almost remember how to cry. I am breaking.There are no words to cradle it.Only silence, vast as tidepoolsleft behind by receding grace. If you could feeljust a shadowof the emptiness inside me,you might get
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The last live performance I saw didn’t have curtains or spotlights—just an office, a boss, and a pathological liar with mascara and crocodile tears.
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“Community doesn’t disappear all at once—it just forgets how to say hello.” bb grey What do you do to be involved in the community? Start small. Smile. Make eye contact. Say hello. It sounds basic, but these days, it almost feels revolutionary. Somewhere along the way—probably while we were busy downloading the next app for
BB Grey--musings 