Poem: Magic

If I could tell my dreams to you,

Would you think my view is skewed?

That I live inside of fairytales and Magic,

And  think that my life in view pales.

You might see the truth in me a little.

But you would miss the bigger picture.

I see my life as a place to help others,

But I haven’t found that I’m a people lover.

Sometimes I become annoyed and need my own space but wish,

That I could see some progress with time, that it be easy to talk excitedly,

That I could be a people lover too and be at ease.

That this is my life and this where I’m meant to be.

Not lost in this mess, this vehicle of regrets,

And find a way to help you and I, find a way,

But magic is lost in a world that doubts it’s existence. 

I have a wand, a will, and sometimes a way.

But I don’t always believe, and that’s the thing with magic,

It only works if you believe it does. 


Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: My Nana

There she stands and paints acrylic in a lush garden of foliage and flowers. The sun is high in the bright blue sky and all kinds of flowers lean into the light. She’s my Nana and I’ve watched her paint in her garden since I was a child. Now I am twenty-five and I see more than my lovely perfect Nana painting. I have listened to her stories.

She survived concentration camps in Poland when she was only a baby. She lost two children in a fire. Once, she came to Canada she was poor and worked as seamstress washing clothes and doing mending for women of means. She became depressed after six of her ten children were born. She has battled cancer twice. She is in her eighty’s now. But still she paints with vigor and passion. She had a hard life from early on but she has made it through it.

Now, as I cut my arm again with a careful slice, blood wells, and I wonder if I will make it to my Nana’s age.

Word Count: 179 words


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