Thursday, February 1, 2018




If we all could be blind
just for one day
blind to status
blind to our differences
blind to the color of our brother’s skin
if we could see with our hearts
not with our eyes
would we act differently than we do now

If we needed to reach out
to hold out a hand
to help each other along the path
would we live differently than we do now
for only through blindness
can we begin to see the truth
We are all the same in the dark


A question is posed, is there life after death?
There are so many deaths besides the final one.

We die a little every day, kicked in the gut by life.
Doors slammed in the face of opportunity.

Relationships that have gone into mourning.
Withered flowers, petals falling to the floor.

Fleeting instances lost from memory.
Dying embers from extinguishing fires.

Each a little passing that chips away at our existence.
Yet life goes on in heartbeats and breaths,

prevailing beyond the extinctions that bite at our backs
Until the final demise.


Sometimes words are not enough
But words are all you have

At times the words are accessible
Other times they are convoluted

You cannot take words back
Hoping things will turn out right

It is impossible to extract
The day out of the night

You know what you want to say
You know what you need to do

But the words sour in your mouth
And never seem to form

As you wait for the right time
Which never seems to come

And so you continue to
Swallow your own pride


ANN CHRISTINE TABAKA is a nominee for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She is a published poet and artist. She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats.    Her most recent credits are Page & Spine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Bindweed Magazine, The Metaworker, Raven Cage Ezine, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, Longshot Island, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine Ann Arbor Review.

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