Monthly Archives: November 2014


unnamed (8)

Out in the open,
In a grand ole place,
I stand on the ledge,
With nature face to face.

Is that me I hear?
Crossing overhead?
Strangely familiar,
Words I’ve just said.

It’s only an echo,
Yet it validates my lines,
Hearing my voice,
Fainting over time.

I repeat it again,
It bounces off walls,
Traveling through air,
Down the mountain it falls.

This time I yell,
With my chin lifted high,
Expecting to hear,
A return from the sky.

Quiet, no answer.
The silence lingers on.
Where are my words?
They must carry on.

I pause for a moment,
As I stand in great wonder,
My words knock me over,
Like a clap of loud thunder.

I listen for the echo,
When life becomes blurred,
A sound like no other,
A voice to be heard.

By Aimi Medina 11-9-14


Last One Standing

Bridge pic1

Old Bridge,
With your dried wooden planks,
As narrow as they come,
As steep as they make.

I trek to the top,
As cars slowly climb,
Sudden pops and rumbles,
You stand the test of time.

The trailing moss creeps,
Between your splintered seams,
The musty air mixed,
With the scent of timber beams.

I bring to you my secrets,
They spill below.
Caught in a current,
Drowning things I know.

The breeze on Old Bridge,
Is no gentle friend.
Pushing me off balance,
To my knees I descend.

Old Bridge is weathered,
It bends and it creaks.
Tension is strained,
Its deck becomes weak.

I return to a stand,
With my hand upon the rail,
I come to you Old Bridge,
To gain trust,
In my tale.

An ear to many stories,
Etched in your frame they speak.
Wisdom in your structure,
What many hope to seek.

I wonder Old Bridge,
As I turn and nod goodbye,
Who’ll be the last one standing?
Will it be you or I?

By Aimi Medina 10-30-14