Katherine's Coffeehouse

They say you can’t go home again. But that is if you don’t have a home,

I am back to believing nothing is ever one thing— that in itself a contradiction,

I used to be a cheerleader. I know. I can hardly believe it myself.

Upon finding an old cemetery Some of these stones are small and unmarked— it must have been a family plot—yet

I have learned to name the ghosts. Let’s call this one Freddie— no particular reason or relation to Freddie Mercury, though I do love a good Queen, especially

And if you want to know why I keep telling the story, it is because someone else might have lived it,

The working theory is this: If we rage at something we are not, we become what we fling ourselves against, protecting our bodies

Perhaps justice is akin to kindness,

I want to know what causes this pain. Not just the ache we all eventually have in the shell of our muscle and bone.

Haiku written in May thus far. Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, copyright 2024, all rights reserved.