Ideas of beauty and vision of self to come,
Time the chisel that shapes the memory,
Like water raging callously against the river bank.

Looking at a picture of George Washington in a history book and seeing faceless distortion,
Looking up at billboards and watching the the corrupt facsimile of mocking frown where a smile should be,
Listening to songs of those you’ve outlived telling you they’ll live forever,
Looking into the still image in the mirror in search of clairvoyance,
Discovering the ugly, cruel, formless, homunculus reaches for my face as i recoil aghast,
Feeding tomorrow’s insecurities,
I’m older now than you’ll ever be,
The everlasting present,

One day you’ll just wake up,
Without reason, without effort, without conscious, without yourself.
Nature’s hand turns the page,
She comforts you as you take your first breath,
To take care of you now is to take care of her in the future,
The everlasting present,

Despite having nothing to my name but my name,
All I can do is say thank you to today for promising me tomorrow.

Mornings are that rough snooze I barely miss. It’s the
huge stretch after knees crack to remind me age is but a
loose sound of movement. It’s a dragging feeling, a
reminder to when my laughter teased Father Time.
It is peaceful, knowing my mental foundation wasn’t a pretty
make over but these years of painful lessons I massage into
my seasons, and when I fall, I’m quick to spring back to my
youthful visage. I mean, winter brings pain, the death of
beauty and the crystallization of movement. Yet summer can
always be seen stretching my soul like it’s uplifted. One
moment I hyperventilate the other I’m free falling to the
bottom of freedoms pool of love. A love for the sensation of
old age being the companion I’ve wanted since my youth.
These astral phases become astral projections of the peace that
I recall seeing. This Growth is the key to my happiness, it’s
the years which times before turned the sun dial and I became
the time father dreamed of.

To Whom it Concerns and Dear Self,

I am to whom it concerns.
I have so much that I still need to learn.
I’m living in the now, not before or the after.
This is what I love most about this chapter.
To whom it concerns and dear self,
This chapter is titled health.
I am achieving my goals with stealth.
These feelings that I’m feeling were once felt.
This chapter that I love most is new to me.
I am myself and myself is who I choose to be.
Life is short so therefore I am living it fully.
I am constantly growing, and I am loving who I grew to be.
I mentioned before that this chapter is titled health.
Life is difficult and it can hurt like a snapped belt.
Life leaves visible bruises and unseen welts.
This is to whom it concerns and dear self.

By Kelly M. Wolff

There’s a stirring within me,
a fervent desire to be seen and heard;
a dormant talent calling out,
beckoning to appear.
Countless thoughts,
endless visions.

The artist emerges,
brush in hand,
painting a scene so serene,
igniting a fire from within.

Can I unveil these parts of me?
Will I be favorably received?
Listen closely:
My voice will echo-
Recognize this, my unique sound,
for soon, favor shall be found.

I bleed rainbows and cry stars

I find community in bars

I was sorrow, I was sin

I denied myself to win

I was lonely and unsure

But no longer immature

I am love and I am strong

I am fearless in my song

I don’t care what others think

And I’ll raise another drink

To brave souls that came before

And blew the locks upon the doors

I am free and I run wild

Like the art made by a child

No remorse and no regret

What you see is what you get

Walk with me and feel my pride

And you will enjoy the ride

Of vibrant life and color burst

Without hunger, without thirst

I am technicolor smile

It just took me but a while

Now I am “alternative”

Let me love and let me live

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

Remember days like this in frailer years
when silence swallows up your tired soul,
for time will fall away with wistful tears
to fill an echovision water hole.

Deep ripples push his childhood toward the shore,
revealing smiles, laughter, hugs, and trust
in intermittent flashes that restore
the endless ways he killed your wanderlust.

Unburdened by responsibility
and ripe with wisdom, patience, and aplomb,
your inhibitions sank and you were free
to be his guide, his friend, his place of calm.

Sweet memories were anchored to forever
each time you sang of baby sharks together.

I am not a lazy girl
So I’m working on me
This person that I can be
Is much better than before
I feel like a winner
Because I try and try
To let life not pass me by
I am always wanting more

I am wanting happiness
I admit when I am wrong
And I know it won’t be long
Until I am filled with glee
I live an honest life
Filled with love and hope
I know that I can cope
So now I’m much more free

I have skills at my disposal
I have learned so many things
I’ve earned grace and wings
To do with as I please
I help others that are in need
And I feel good inside
I don’t try to hide
My emotions are at ease

But what I love the most
Is the feeling that I get
When I’m myself and yet
This person that I know
Has changed before my eyes
I don’t know where I am going
But I know that I am growing
I follow my own flow

Dear self,
I salute self because of the numerous trials, errors and sudden oppositions which were unfortunate that self had to endure unwanted and definitely no forewarning…. of the tragic loss of self’s son. The eldest son who was like the brighter of the earth’s sun which was the blessing from the womb which made self smile and heart leap with every bit of his age as self raised him to be such a great child with much bravery and grace.
Until that one particular day, that day self wouldn’t have expected that call we as parents, we as mothers dare to imagine that apprehended call which we don’t bear easily and fear the most.
It was October 4th, 2023which was the last of his unspoken breath …. that nightmare call that self didn’t deserve to hear the alarming voice on the other end of the phone line about her son, her eldest baby’s death…. Self’s mind goes spiraling…as her voice was unwinding a holler that was way deeper than the ocean’s wave …. Transition, opposition tell me , explain to self how could this happened on today?
Life happens, Life hurts and Life brings trauma and serves self pain which isn’t on the menu ! Although, this has happened to me, I must say I salute self , dear self because my bittersweet and torn soul has turned into a inspiration and celebration of good memories where self can laugh and smile again as the sun shines upon me as if he too is smiling back because his legacy has left a great inspiring impact as a great brother, awesome father to his son where his wisdom,great talents and love of 38 years upon this planet shall live on….Self I did an amazing job as to raising, loving and teaching my eldest boy …. my first joy and always will be… my first born son! I Salute Self

I am 25.
This is a mood board, sprawling
Swatches of ambition, photographs pinned of places yet to see,
And pastel whispers of what feels true, but I think I like who I am becoming.
I drink an oat milk latte and walk around the house remembering who I was at 24—
Drafting text messages, never sent;
Creating worlds in fictional novels, characters that understood;
Spraying lavender on the pillow sheet, scaring the restless away.
I could write a million words about who I used to be, but I am 25.
I am floating and celebrating this chapter, feeling it expand and contract.
Everything has become clearer—homemade pasta, fuzzy socks, wearing lingerie, lighting cinnamon candles—(because) I didn’t love me.

I am 25. I’ve learned
To believe in my melancholy and that sometimes, things are out of my control; to taste the sweetness in the back of my throat, where my fear quietly waits; to turn pages, and write with fountain pens, and love myself in ways I have never.
I am 25 and I think I like who I am becoming.