she believes in me
mother is the name
of God, the title of
wisdom;
she is a guiding ship
and the port that leads home—
she is the lighthouse,
the womb, the friend, the
parent, and the authority;
she is a song of magic
too oft forgotten—
but she is patient,
she is kind, she is full
of effortless beauty
and charm;
she takes my hands any
time i have fallen
and whispers to get up again—
she believes in me
and all of my strange dreams.
-linda m. crate
whisper of your past
playing a game of solitaire
with a deck of twenty eight cards
is as wrong as me being here
without you,
i think of all the adventures we
should be having,
all the things we should be
or could be doing together;
always wanted you to be my sun
because i always knew i
could be your moon—
but i guess
life had different plans
for us
than everything i wanted,
i thought i could be
your wife;
a beloved melody of a song
you could never
resist—
turns out i am just a whisper
of your past that you keep
around to remember good times.
-linda m. crate
give me the large dose
small doses of kindness
are beautiful,
yet sometimes are not
enough;
surviving off of crumbs
a soul can still starve—
i prefer large doses
of kindness that last and
linger on more than
a single day,
i want do be drowned in
flowers, trinkets, affection,
compliments, and love;
i want to know i matter
to someone else
other than me—
i want to linger on the mind
as a dream or a haunting
crow, whose inky black feathers
and eerie song bring no peace
in accordance to how
a soul treated me.
-linda m. crate
they're wrong
i am overdue on some
forgotten hugs,
i have back rent in hugs that
are overdue;
i don't mind who gives me
a hug whether it's a tree, a
crow, a unicorn, a dragon,
or my fictional father lestat;
but i am overdue on hugs,
affection, and care—
i guess that happens when
you're a misfit crow,
everyone assumes you're
strong and silent;
that you don't crave connection
or love or depths—
but they're wrong, i always have.
-linda m. crate
my heart still beats with music
flying with a broken wing
has never stopped me,
the wing will heal;
and my heart still beats
with music—
so let's give the psalm some
rhythm and a lot of
soul,
let the chorus be a melody
the world has never heard before;
i am a weird girl dancing
to the beat of my own
drum—
i am not a song you've ever
heard before or will ever hear
again so make sure you listen when I'm singing to you,
because if you make me feel
small and insignificant;
then I'll keep my crow song to
myself and join the rest of
the misfit crows with my inky
black wings.
-linda m. crate
So we often have friends releasing new books. And we love to recommend them. Here’s our book recommendations. We try to get it done every Saturday but we are busy so we may have missed a few.
i define myself
watching from a distance,
you can lose your whole life
waiting to become;
and so i decided to believe
in myself and my dreams—
for it didn't matter if others
could see what i saw,
only that i could get there;
because there's nothing
this simulation can do to hold
me back from becoming
who i truly am—
i am magic, i am a melody,
a poem, a song, i am the crow,
the fox, the creek, the tree;
i am immortal and i will never
be forgotten no matter how
many discard me—
i define myself although many
others have tried, they don't
know my heart or the mythology
of these bones.
-linda m. crate
where my magic is understood
dragons in flight, freed from
the tethers of anyone's need
are so beautiful to watch;
but there's a part of me that
also wants to escape
on the back of one into another
realm where i am warmly
accepted and loved
where my magic is understood—
some forgotten princess
which is suddenly remembered,
pulled away from a reality where
she doesn't feel known
or appreciated;
ever since i was a little girl i thought
perhaps if i were good enough
my father would come find me
and take me home—
sometimes he was a prince
or a king,
but usually he was a vampire.
-linda m. crate
no night sky without darkness
memories are occasionally
a tragedy,
i think my mom thinks i want
to be sad sometimes;
but i don’t really choose to be—
sometimes my brain takes a
trip to memory lane,
and all i can think of are the things
which hurt me;
there’s love and light in my life
but those echoes seem too soft
in comparison with all the hurt i
have either have had to face
or overcome—
memories last forever,
the impact of words and deeds
matters;
and i will not apologize for the way
i process things—
there would be no night sky
without a bit of darkness,
but i won’t let the darkness swallow
all of my light.
-linda m. crate
to where i began
no foundation
to stand on,
always feel like the
sand beneath my
feet is going to give out;
will i be falling through
stars until i land in
the right universe?
i can't shake the feeling
that this is the wrong one,
no one seems to
understand me here;
and no one has ever loved
me the way i needed
to be loved—
no one seems capable
of appreciating me and all of
my magic,
perhaps i just need to
let the sand be washed away;
maybe the ocean can
take me back to where i began
and i can find my home and
these restless bones of mine
can find rest.
-linda m. crate
