“I miss the summer light that peered into my bedroom each morning. When I awoke, I’d push the covers from my feet rising to greet the sun. Then reach for the smell of the dew on the grass or the sweet trickle of rain that had simple past as I’d slept. Now, there is the darkness of the fall. It pushes me into a deep desire to sleep, devours the emptiness, void of light. No longer am I feeling the bounce in my step, but an eagerness to lay dormant beneath the sheets in my bed.”
~Angela K. Crandall~
In my world, there is an island where poverty doesn’t exist.
A place where you are not condemned for being either religious or not
But that you
Equal to each other no matter
Race, sexuality or where you are from
If we were to lift each other up
There would be no class system
There would just be a group of humans working together
So everyone had what they needed
This world is only in my heart
It can only be provided by me helping those around myself.
Being that which I want others to be
It will only happen if we; as a group of humans are selfless
It won’t be easy
I want an island where
People don’t have to hide who they are
Where no one hurts each other
Physically, mentally or emotionally
I want peace, hope, and love
I don’t understand those that say no judgment
Then they use a book to do just that.
Angela K. Crandall
“I cannot be carved, by your hand. I take my tools back.
There are no demands that I will answer.
At this instant, I take minutes and hours multiplying them.
Even if it’s, only a wish.
I hold it up like a birthday candle and blow.
It disappears as I will.
So, for now, I take my minutes, hours and days holding them near for as long as I can.”
~Angela K. Crandall~
“If nothing really mattered but love then love would be our work. We would get paid for taking care of each other, not commercialism, capitalism, and all of the reasons why they use us. We’d be used for good gain, not for more than what is needed. Nor would the tasks be those that drowned us in pain. If love was our work it would lift us up, but how can we love our work when it does not love us? When it instead enslaves us.”
-Angela K. Crandall
(And it’s not because we let it, we all need a roof, a bed, clothing, food, heat, and a way to get to work.)
I thought, I was here to connect until disconnections kept creeping up, the scissors kept coming out, and no matter how I tried to tape them back together, people kept cutting. Oh, and repeat offenders. Ones who don’t cut, but don’t contact. What of them?-
~Angela K. Crandall
(On relationships, friendships, and human encounters.)