.:Split Screen and Technicolor:.


When am I just the words on your screen? 

The buttons pushed in distant thought? 

When does my absence mean something?

If anything at all?


Ah ~

There’s nothing to be frightened of.

Those creatures in their nightly reverie,

reveal so much when in their revelry,

about the hidden psyche buried deeply.


Ah ~

There’s nothing to be frightened of.

These brushstrokes speak nothing of you, love.

And sadness is but a color on my palette.


But somewhere,

fading in the distance,

is the platonic intelligence I once admired,

before unfurling my canvas,

and striking brush to color.

But now, erase me,

if I mean so little.


You’ll find me in the Neverland,

For I am one of Them.


– Savannah

Erase me, if I mean so little. Sometimes absence says what words cannot.


Incense smoke drifts through open air,

the scent of honey fills my senses,

mixing with the apple on my altar,

to create a wondrous sense of peace.

Clarity means having an open mind,

and bottomless heart.

Show me the lessons,

as I seek them in your company.

The hum of energy from the crystals,

meshes with the sound of a tiny, tinkling bell.

The chalice touches my lips,

and a warmth spreads through my veins.

I raise the glass in acknowledgement,

and another wave of peace fills me,

crashing like the tide to shore.

An hourglass marks my time,

the sand slowing as I close my eyes.

Your presence marks the beginning of my meditative state.

And once again, I feel whole.

– Savannah

Happy International Witches Day *

Whether you identify as a Witch or not (as I do not), it is a good day to delve into the magic of Earth and revel in her energy. Find peace and clarity with nature, and self. Read into the history of witches, or simply enjoy the day. There is much to understand, still, and much to come. 

Have a blessed day!

.:Swept Away:.

The sand slips between my fingers,

like time in a weighted hourglass.

I see the past in slow motion;

Children running,


and laughing.

How many were here before me?

The question hangs in open air,

I see the words as incandescent writing circling ’round my head.

A couple walks the beach slowly,

and I see what could be –

The good and bad.

I slow the visions of my life as air fills my lungs at last.

A friend kneels above me, calling my name.

His voice I no longer recognize.

I hear it, as though through water.

His face is a blank mask.

I see no eyes, no mouth, no nose.

Who are you?

The words float above me.

If I am but a memory,


Don’t forget to remember me.


– Savannah



“…I’m just another story, not worth a reading.”

Touching the glass ceiling,

I remember the sound of your breathing

in the moment you were sleeping next to me.

When did I lose that clarity?

When did absence mean hostility?

Am I still capable of charity?


I touch the wounds,

watching them heal.

I know at last that each moment spent with you

is that much more real,

when you turn to me,

just to say:

I’m proud of you.”

But you don’t know,

that under my breath I reply:

So am I.


*Dear Reader,

Kintsukuroi (or Kintsugi), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. I felt the word befitting for the title of a poem referring to healing from self-harm.

Know that you are not alone… Ever. If the only thing you do today is hold yourself together, know that I am proud of you. You did it! You may not know it…But you have the strength to keep on fighting, to keep on going. You are loved, and cared for, and wanted, and needed in this world. So keep going. Keep doing, keep being, and stay beautiful. Have a blessed day! And pass on the love to those closest to you. They may need it and you don’t even know it yet.*

.:What Dreams We Seek:.


Polished in solace,

I find I’ve got mountains to climb.

The moonlight before me,

brings clarity,

to the harmony and cacophony of nocturnal creatures.

Eyes stare at me from within the brush,

yellowed and glowing,

But I find no fear.

Distant howls follow my trek in the semi-darkness.

I know I am surrounded,

But I find no fear.

Tiny creatures dart in the grass and leaves below my feet,

I feel them, almost as another heartbeat.

The trees whisper a melodious tune in the breeze,

branches reaching out to one another,

fingers made of wood and the life of Mother Earth.

An owl swoops from above,

catching his prey mid-flight.

A tiny squeak follows his movements,

and one less heart beats in the night.

But I find no fear.

The wolves nearby call to their brothers

the chant of night,

I hear them closing in.

A twig snaps beneath my feet,

and a sharp growl follows –

But before me now is only open sky,

and the moon bathing her children in her glow.

Only the stars know my true path,

I have nowhere left to go

yet still I find no fear.

Not all those who wander are lost.”

– Savannah




Icy veins,

and the return of consciousness,

brings with it a sensitivity unmatched,

unmitigated by the fear of retribution.

I can feel your grin,

as you stand behind me,

laughing in the face of what was.

But still I move forward,

Let the shadows fall behind you.”

imagining a better future.

What happens when we dream?

What is the result of our uncaptured thought?

Waking is just another reality,

held tight by the breadth of your smile.

– Savannah

.:Dame de Magie:.

The Cheshire Moon

smiles upon her

Like Fate –

with his crooked grin

and alabaster teeth,

shining eyes made of stars.


the distant call of a raven,

melds well with the softly falling snow,

and a wolf cries,

Solemn and macabre,

shattering the imagery of loneliness.

Dining from empty plates,

dreaming of a life lived freely

Captivated by the hunger of another era,

when all we know,

is the ever-beating heart of

“le Dame de Magie”.


– Savannah



.:Life in Transit:.

Surrounded  by light,

I climb the tower.

With each step,

my limbs grow heavy,

my mind betrays the loneliness

of the weighted days.

Sickness leaves me tired,

hungry, and constrained.

But still I am determined,

until at last, I hear your name.

What was it that we’d agreed upon?

When your hand was still in mine?

Empty promises.” Your words float back to me.

But each day I climb,

blinded by the means.

When I reach the final step,

Your voice I no longer recall.

The past is but a memory,

and I have lived them all.

With each breath I love you still,

and I’m sure, forever will.

The anger in your gaze,

I keep at bay,

behind a mortared wall.

But each day it seems to crumble,

threatening to fall.

Though I do not acknowledge,

the steady creeping images,

they seem to find me

just as sleep releases,

and I know one day

you’ll reappear just to say;

I have lived them all.




When they tell me; “Eat your heart out.”
there’s something in the way
their eyes follow my face,
but I will rise above the flames,
and tear through the fire…

When they tell me; “It’s okay.”
There’s nothing left to say,
’cause the end defines the means
and nothing is as it seems.
Busting through the seams,
are enemies unclean,
and they tell me; “Eat your heart out!”

Somethin’s gotta give,
we’re broken and battered
standing among the blood spatters
and endless foreign matters
are our final and best charade…
But they tell me; “Eat your heart out!”
There’s nothing left to say,
but we will rise above the flames,
tearing through the fire…

Give me one last goodbye?
So I can keep you in my mind,
ending my life in the rites of a funeral pyre
But you tell me; “Eat your heart out.



.:The Armor of Belief:.


The waves crash along a distant shore

and your voice echoes to me

proclaiming things I will never be.

Exclamations of distress follow

as I turn and walk away,

something you had not expected

even on that day.

Believe me when I tell you

your voice still dregs my mind

but in those stolen moments

I no longer leave my peace behind.

Taking each step forth,

a new day dawns.

Soon, I’ll be that much closer

to the Me I knew all along.

Your reputation preceded you,

I’d thought you much more pure,

but it is my Fate that kept me bound,

as the magma to the core.

Rising to the surface,

I know of magic once more.

So beside me, I keep my peace,

and am grateful for each morn’,

and as the days pass,

I know at last,

I shall no more feel scorned.

– Savannah