S.C. Flynn

To say just what you feel is never easy.

A woman’s clothes lying by her feet in a pile

might be the foam from which a goddess is born

or the frothy breakers of a sea

that might rush in and overwhelm us.

We can think that our acts are not our own

and rather come flying along

like migrating birds and they can seem

just stories you hear about someone else,

but most of life is lived a thousand times;

once by us and once by each observer.

Soon to be published in Cyphers magazine