The Suitcase

Stepping off a train

Clutching your suitcase

With white knuckles

Because it’s all you have in the world


This is like that

Only, my suitcase is full of words

And though they aren’t all I have

They are most precious to me

I hug them to my chest

So they can feel the heart beat

That gave them life


I hesitate

Nervous anticipation

My fingers hovering over the clasp

Of my priceless suitcase

Because opening it in front of someone

Is terrifying


People will stare at me

Who knows what they’ll say

Perhaps they will say nothing at all

Some won’t even look

They won’t see me

And I’ll sit on the floor

Of the crowded station

With my words

Scattered across the floor

For anyone to step on

With their stiletto heels

And pass by

Without a glance

Without a word


And I’ll wait for that someone

Who stops

And looks at the words

Their head cocked to one side

Trying to read

My hideous handwriting

And understand

My scattered thoughts


That someone who drops down

To gather them in their arms

And looks at me

With eyes that finally



Tread Softly

I read this quote today.

“I have spread my dreams under your feet; / Tread softly because you tread on my dreams”

-W.B.Yeats, “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven”

It’s a remarkable accurate description of the way I feel when I allow someone to read something I have written.

When I write it is not just words that come out on the paper, but my heart and soul. And when I allow someone to read it, I am exposing my inner most self. I am spreading my dreams at their feet.

And while I want them to be honest, I also want them to tread softly.

It’s a risky thing to make yourself so vulnerable. You are giving someone the power to hurt you if they want to. Removing every piece of armor that protects you from the world.

And whether this is wonderful and terrifying, you are showing them who you really are.