I go inside where the rain pellets the skin

piercing and drenched

I recall, as I sit and feel the years of despots and dictators reign control 

My belly contracting like a beast, unwanted and violent.

I recall my youth

The beginnings of me

I recall my innocence

I retract and recoil

The memory of despots and dictators

Lurking around and about 

every corner.

Rough, tumble

Soft, plush innocence.

To un-know would be pleasure.

Yearning to un-know that the absence of light is black dark colorless 

thrusting that back inside, is all but impossible.

Yet, to be wild again

if I can for a minute, even recall how that feels. 

The un-infringed upon mind. Freedom.

Yes freedom. Free-dom 

Free dom dom


©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Website Powered by

Up ↑

Sonoran Images

Photography by Steven Kessel

The Forgotten Archive

Worded emotions no one cared about and were forgotten

marks in the sand

created & maintained by Chris Biles

Foster Your Writing

Write Like You Know What You're Doing

The Literary Serenity Archives

Creative Writing Reflections, Stories about Stories, and Feel-Good Pieces

The Paltry Sum

Detroit Richards

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

"The silence of the night awakens my soul"

Bridgette Tales

Everybody has a story. Here's a little of mine.


L'illusione, la realtà oltre lo specchio.

Mitch Teemley

The Power of Story

Cajun Mutt Press

The go-to place for all things on the poetic literary fringe.

Basho and Jung

A Haiku a week. Mined from my dreams.

%d bloggers like this: