I move dirt around trying to cover my mistakes. There's never enough. 
Yet I dig! 
Persistent! My feet planted deeper and deeper 
until my sole surrounding: soil. 
Slowly eroding, exposing my errors once again. 
I can't rise above them unless I stack them; stepping stones of blunder. 
This, my only path for escape, displaying deviations 
and scars from my detours. 
Climbing though, my focus can alter from what I leave 
below me to the threads of hope that greet me in the open air. 
This unfurls only after acknowledgement. 
Only after anger is abandoned. 
Only after regret rest in the residue of the treads I leave behind me. 
Not hidden, but absorbed into the dirt.


B. Toner September 2024

Sometimes I feel I need to take more risks. Living a life of privilege; however, muddies my interpretation of peril. Dipping my toe into the pool most likely won’t bring on the frostbite that I imagine. Life and limb stakes rarely come into play when I venture to the wild side. On the contrary, my luxuries nurture minor inconveniences into overgrown monsters that no longer fit under my queen-size bed.

Perhaps daring myself in a measured way may be all I can muster. It’s a tough life, but I’ll bravely chance it.

Running with Scissors

I'm going to do it! Throw caution lightly aside. 
Run with scissors! Let the rules slightly slide.
Going to live life on the softened edge.
Use only light sunscreen, delay any pledge.
Undaunted, I'll swim after a vegan feast.
Rip all tags from my mattress, leave not one in the least.
Won't say excuse me when my burb is unsquashed.
Throw light in with the dark,
No separate loads when I wash.
Keep all my library books way past the due date.
Ignore the fine print. Leave it all up to fate.
Dare the barista to leave out the cream.
No umbrella, no flossing, just the dangerous dream!
Park front-first and take up double the space.
Drink straight from the hose, with a filter in place.
Face some challenges and seize half the day.
Sacrifice a little for a pilgrimage in my way.

B. Toner September 2024

I once worked with a boss who wasn’t afraid to take chances. Whenever we were exploring new programs, I would attempt to anticipate every obstacle that we needed to overcome before implementation; overplanning as it were. She was braver. She saw the value in taking action. She showed me that progress isn’t perfect. Rather, it involves set backs.

Her lessons on the importance of moving ahead remain with me. Although, as I write this, I still struggle with the inertia of planning. I can’t possibly predict variables for every scenario. So I require reminders to risk, even to enjoy action, to learn to fix as I go.

I learned that sometimes, inertia can be a bitch.

Breaking Inertia

The square root of gray areas remain inconclusive.
Answers continue to elude me while sitting on the fence.
Planning for perfect risks leads to unreasonable doubts.
I may suffer bruises from blunt messages, but they can
break inertia.

So I'll jump or I'll get pushed. 
Sometimes flat on my face is the only way forward.

I can practice, plan and anticipate. I can rehearse for
tomorrow through sunset. However, my biology and my spirit evolve.
A partly-lit torch is all I can offer my future. 
I need to be counted today.

My deathbed can't be the proving ground.
There is no verifying six feet below. 
My inner light will not reflect over my gravestone.

Baby steps - before I'm paralyzed into place, circling.
Break inertia.

B. Toner June 2024

Prepare for those who complain of the moon and blame 
the clouds for their soiled feet.
They stomp on eggshells with twinkling eyes, shatter
ice but drink their whiskey neat.

Don’t panic. Don’t slam the brakes. The speed of sound
inflates speech; for talk ain’t cheap.
Be honoured they chose you to test their mettle,
you as prey from the herd of sheep.

Don’t yell in gusts of their baritone winds. 
It’s can be a rudderless force.
Reserve your energy for prying open thoughts,
connecting to your source.

In truthful arrogance or in error, they throw down the
gauntlet. Thriving on bouts.
Listen. Attune your tone to gentle conviction.
Thank them for wrestling with your doubts.


B. Toner           May 2024

Do you recall that angst you had in your youth? It was driving you to leave home, or to get away from the familiar. Oh sure! There was a destination: higher education, a job waiting or the chance to share an apartment with friends. The desire had purpose. It was also natural, if not necessary.

This step required you to alter, even break the original relationships you had with people who grew up with you, who raised you. That growth caused a permanent change in the nature of those precious connections. I accept it’s a cycle of life. New ties are formed or change their grip. What would it be like if we try to go back? Is it even possible now that you are who you’ve become? They say you can’t go home again, but memories do make it enticing.

The Road Home is Uphill

The road home is uphill, no matter which path I choose. 
Still, I scout the routes hoping steps that 
led me away can smooth my return.
My stride altered over the years, but my memory points
remain steadfast.
Now I bend humbly. Anxious to rise above the arrogance of my
departure. I wasn't cruel. Wasn't heartless. I was self-serving 
and urgent; or so I thought.
I wish intentions in my youth could melt hearts, 
easing this homecoming - no matter the distance travelled 
- no matter the distance experienced.
Otherwise, why am I drawn back?
A moth lured to the original encounters, to the love.
So I set out to return to that semi-unknown.
There's a familiar sensation on this journey, 
matching those of my leaving.
Is this me running? As fast as I left?

B. Toner         April 2024 

When I put this piece together, I wasn’t trying to be serious. In fact, I tried throughout the process to keep it light. I’m not sure I succeeded. Having time to reflect on the final version, I have to believe it represents, in part, my journey; balancing the inevitable and vital parts of my journey, while keeping my outlook casual. I need to remind myself regularly to lighten up. To take myself less seriously.

If I look closely at where I am, how does it compare to what I dreamed? Am I disappointed? Satisfied? Often, it depends on my mood or what transpired the day of my reflection. Although, it seems the only time I attempt this prolonged gaze is when the surface is misty. Is that on purpose? Who knows. Best to just laugh it off and try again the next time. But am I hoping for a clear picture or another blurry image?

Staring Back

My mirror is coated in mist
I don't recognize what's reflected in the hazy surface
Something resembling a phantom

I wipe it clear
But this doesn't scare away the ghost staring back at me
Rather, I'm fearful of the one in the frame
Don't look him directly in the eye!
Those eyes that remained focused through muck and marvels

No, I'm more at ease in the fog
Where the truth is unclear
You know that place where circumstances are forgivable

Perhaps he sees me as the cast
I wonder, does he even see me clearly?
Is he surprised? Disappointed? Regretful?
I'm choosing to project hope
Hoping to be his twin in status

Maybe if I don't look away,
Eventually, we will pair
Whether the mirror be murky or clear

B. Toner    February 2024

He said a mouthful
A storm of sentences colliding into our courtesy
We tried to catch our breath, gasping for the right
response
But heavy words chased the air from the room

He said a mouthful
He didn’t chew on them nearly long enough
We hoped he’d swallow his pride like we swallowed
conflict
But diplomacy played no part in his diet

He said a mouthful
Too much for him to keep a tight seal
Spitting darts no one had time to dodge
We licked our wounds rather than wage a war
of tongues

He said a mouthful
Candidly, cuttingly, clumsily,
We were too shocked to buffer the ripples
Repercussions blunted the point of remediation

He said a mouthful


B. Toner. January 2024

Gravity isn't always enough to keep my feet on solid ground.
Stress rises like heat, warping my balance.
But dedication can guide this force to target.

Gravity isn't always enough to stock rain for the green.
Chemicals dissolve into mainstream, tinting nature off colour.
But restraint can filter this energy to cleanse.

Gravity isn't always enough to tie hearts together.
Pride drives loving presence into isolation.
But faith can assist this power to synchronized pulses.

Somewhere between my first and last mistake, I got sunburnt, snowed-in and salt-coated by the sea. I broke glass for emergencies and patched holes, hoping to keep walls from crumbling. I fought dutifully and repented in deep puddles of guilt. I came in first, last and kept the bench warm.

Somewhere between my first and last mistake, I cut trails down snow-covered slopes and through crystal clear waves. I provided blankets for comfort and drew blood with my sharp tongue. I was green, blue, yellow and red, all by instinct. I glossed over the scars of others and gave mine a brilliant shine.

Somewhere between my first and last mistake, I swam lakes and oceans and almost drowned in my unfounded fears. I was attacked and hugged within an inch of my life. From my imperfect frame, I pushed out tears of both sorrow and joy. I dressed up for bullshit and for honour.

Somewhere between my first and last mistake, I drove my friends crazy and drove over posted speed limits. I sang praises, shouted insults, whispered gratitude and proclaimed uncertainties. I imagined epic tales and lost my footing in the slow lane. I broke hearts and welded mine back together several times.

Somewhere between...

B. Toner December 2023

Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of dreams
When everything was possible
Now nothing's what it seems

Remember when we fell together
No thoughts at all about the weather
We gazed up at the clear, blue sky
Just counting the clouds rolling by

Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of promise
I want to whirl around again
Without a guilty conscious

Our make believe was so strong, so real
Scrapes, cuts, lightly kissed to heal
We could swing and ride, fly or fall
We imagined a world beyond it all

Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of time
Nostalgia paints that rosie glow
Still haunting the daily grime

It's not just youth or innocence alone
We played with intent, chasing the unknown
Emotional memories keeping spirits light
Anchored in yesterday, circling tomorrow, tonight

Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of dreams
Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of promise
Ring around the rosie
Pockets full of time

B. Toner November 2023    Music by B. Toner