• christian baez

central park

He stops. Fall. Warm colors, cool winds. He stands in front of it, in the midst of it, surrounded by it. He's in company but alone in his head. He hears the crunch of dry leaves but is distracted by the thoughts that rush inside his mind. He feels elated over the thought of being here, having sealed deep wounds with such grace and tenderness in order to get here. A beat, a breath, a memory from the past. He turns around and greets fall with a misread smile, and creates a crunching sound as he walks on.

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

holy ground

So run. Run far, far away. Run from that aching sting that once laid as a delightful moment here. Run from the hopeful remarks I cultivated and left here for you to grow on your own. Run every inch aw

grow as we go

I know I said I would run. I know I said there was freedom for me beyond what I couldn’t see. I know I packed my things and said goodbye that September night. I know I turned my back to years of could


You never admitted it, but I know you wished I was naive then. I could see how my talk about wanting to pursue something different- something I recklessly knew would haunt you, made you wish we could