One Day

One day they will have accomplished their lives and lie next to each other 6 feet deep, lulled to sleep by the melody of Mother Earth, and drawn out of it by their Father into a brilliant world where they will stand, side by side, awash in white light. Luminescent.

Now, however, in this moment, right now: he whispers a final “goodnight”, teetering on a laugh as if something is funny. Maybe there is something funny. She never really knows, and probably never will.

Artwork by Emiliano Bastita

Right now she presses her head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat and slow down her own, but one day she will be looking out to the sea, standing on the shores of Prince Edward Island. Continue reading “One Day”



Her eyelashes quiver
As the restless wind blows so desperately through the evergreens.
She hums with a sort of wistfulness,
or desire,
As she leans
against the balcony
And looks to somewhere beyond the horizon.
A belief holds her like strings of a puppet:
Maybe her calculating, wary eyes
Would be able to detect
The small, unwaivering movement
Of a future different from the one she knows she must suffer,
As if the road that stretches to every corner of the world
Would possibly be able to take her somewhere easier,
Somewhere kinder,
Somewhere better.


It was the night. The Sun sets on a day, (an eternity) that held hardship and difficulty and irrevocable actions. The stars come out and the nebula come to life as you set your head on the plush pillow, your head filled to the rim with naive hope. Tomorrow you’ll take steps to be better, you yawn, as the Moon watches over your dosing mind with simpering pity.
The next moment your eyes flit open, and once again the glorious, arrogant Sun rises above the jagged horizon. Light dazzles the pale opaque sky, and it fills you with the flimsy knowledge that darkness has come to an end, unknowing that night must always return for a new day to rise more beautiful than before.