Susanne Thomas reads, writes, parents, and teaches from the wild and windy west in Wyoming. Besides her five kids and husband, she loves fantasy, science fiction, speculative fiction, poetry, children’s books, mythology, science, coffee, and puns. And socks. She really loves socks. That’s a lot of things to love, but luckily, there’s a lot of love in the world.
Paper plates Plastic straws Tinfoil pans Drive thru windows Prepackaged food Two-day delivery Magic for the stressed busy tired But if books have taught me anything Magic comes with a price and the monkey paw will always win for granting me an easier life When will I notice enough (or care enough) to stop spending my world away?
Chasing a Paragon
Our histories are open now what we've said, what we've felt, how we grow not to be unfolded and parceled out as gifts to friends who dig past the surface but out there for everyone who’d wish to know We are the sum of our words and writings and pictures and likes and follows Even if we follow evil to watch it Even if we like posts to see them later Even if we have family who are awful but still family We are flawed But now our flaws are uncovered, held in a lit room and echoed about asking for judgments and affirming nods They will not nod They will look past and skim the thousands of pictures of our hiking trails, presents, and meals our likes of cats, dogs, horses, and trains They will skip over the "sames" and "this is mes" and go right to that time when we said it wrong and did not delete our post but rather left it as a ring on our tree It shows up in our flashback fridays and throw back thursdays and we cringe, and look over at people who we once would have hurt, but now hold dear We smile at our growth Until someone else points at the scars where we had to heal around our sickness and tie our skin back up better. Then we're cut at the knees and shrunk down, made smaller by our past, made lesser by who we were, no matter who we have become.
Let the opportunities slip
Like water, we are rained on Every day With chances and situations That we could jump on Like a train out of the station To take us elsewhere And we move Panicked Hurried Because the thought of missing that train Of missing that chance Is frozen in us And Marshal Mather’s Voice Tells us that We only get one shot So, we rush and end up somewhere we never wanted to go But time and life Will tell you That if you take a moment To see where the train is going You can wait a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, years And another ride Going where you always dreamed of being Will arrive And you will be ready To leap from the platform
In the deep dark When the world is too loud In its silence I spin around The dream Of a world Crafted in brilliance Our needs are met And there is no hunger We are kind And make boundaries and bridges You are you And I am I And no one blinks an eye When you do the things as you do And I do the things as I do The plurality of us all Is embraced and we are woven Into a cloth rich and thick and full and resplendent in its colors Resplendent And Resilient