blog
-
Field PostcardFrance, 17 October 1917POSTMARK: 21st Battalion, Ypres SalientCENSORED: PASSED BY A.E.F. FIELD CENSOR 143 L— We go over at dawn. Our trenches hold like promises made in fear, shallow, desperate, and already broken. I keep low, but death hums overhead. If this is the end, and often it nearly is, know this: I thought…
-
Prompt of the Day: What’s the Legacy You Want to Leave Behind? Legacy? Sounds like something for kings, tech moguls, or that rich uncle who left you his vintage comic collection in his will. Merriam-Webster’s first definition agrees: legacy’s just cash or stuff you pass down. Snooze. But the second definition? That’s the juice—a lasting…
-
“She didn’t leave scars—she left blueprints for where to break me again.” bb grey She cut mejust to watch me bleed—her hands steady, eyes dry,as if pain were an old habit,and my heart, a toolfor remembering how to feel. She smiledas I broke—that slow, deliberate smileof someone who knowsexactly where your soulstill flinches. She sleptnot…
-
—have you ever broken a bone? Picture this: a scrappy backyard baseball diamond, cobbled together by three siblings with big dreams and zero budget. First base? A sickly, half-dead plant wheezing in a faded terracotta pot, so heavy we nearly busted a gut dragging it into place. Bits of clay flaked off, sticking to my…
-
Lanterns Gone to Sea This morning came with plans and lines,A house to build, a roof to frame.The page held purpose, measured signs,Not quite the same as love, or flame,But something steadier, less to blame. I traced the framing joists by hand,The ink a kind of slow release,Each line a thing I understand,Unlike the words…
-
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…
-
“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…
-
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…
-
“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…
-
Favorite Brands? Let’s Get Real When I saw today’s prompt about favorite brands, my mind did a quick catwalk strut to the usual suspects: Hermès, Gucci, Rolex—those high-end logos that scream “I’ve made it!” (or at least fake it ‘til you make it). In my younger, slightly delusional years, I’d splurge on stuff I couldn’t…
BB Grey--musings 