You know, I remember travelling across Pennsylvania as a child to visit my grandparents. Perhaps my recollection is due to the unforgettably hot summers and unforgiving winters. Maybe because it’s one of those little things that matter the most.

I can remember the road across cities from the back row of a family van. The kind that had the windows that kind of popped out to let fresh air in. For as far back as I can remember, closed spaces always made me anxious and moving vehicles only made matters worse. I could smell the noxious scent the van gave off as we rode down the highway. I tried my hardest to push my face just close enough to the window to be able to breathe without getting choked out by the air. The trip was always an uncomfortable one, unless I was sleep.

I can always see my grandparents vividly in my mind’s eye.  They’re always at the dining room table with a hot cup of coffee and newspaper in hand. In the winter, grandma would hold festivities just for family and bake gingerbread cookies. They always kept cookies on the dining room table in a jar. My grandfather was a healer. People would travel to him just so that he would pray for them. He always read the bible, listened to gospel music and watched Christian television—the only deviation was the morning news.

Even though they’re gone, I still see them that way in my dreams. And I dream of them often. I’m not sure why my sleep always brings me back to the old house whether it’s wonderful or terrifying. Time has continued as it always does and always will. I still get sick if I’m in the car for too long. These are the years and we are their children.

©Kyanna Kitt


Every morning I wake laid upon the bed, my head on black satin pillow case—eyes fixed on something in the air. Dreams of the night’s eve haunt me. My heart bent on solace or at least an attempt to reach new. The chains of yesterday, the idea of perfection, my imminent demise.

© Kyanna K.


I can still smell the autumn leaves

Strong coffee brewing

Heavily sweetened, full, robust

Or merely a replication of myself…


In the depth of time’s progression

We linger

Always one and never together

Ours is a glorious esprit de corps


I crave him like sweet nectar

Whose beauty comes second to none

And at dawn, within his hand, I am whole again

If only he knew


Like the sun this too will rise and fall

And some day


Together, we’ll smile.



Kyanna Kitt

#JanuaryFalls Poetry Challenge No. 1

I want to begin again

I want to start life anew

Fresh breath nourishing my lungs again

I want to breathe again


I want to begin again

I want to love like I’d never been hurt again

Stand bold and alone again

I want to be again


I want to begin again

I want to live my dream

Silent prayers the only thing keeping me from hitting the ground

I want to dream again


I want to live.


Kyanna K.

Poem No. 1

In the amber sap of morning

I could taste love for the very first time…

Neither did it take nor did it ravage black fruit.

Properly entwined;

Entrapped in majesty’s stare…

The prospects of which previously deadened the brightest hopes…

Beneath kobicha strands, I felt.

©Kyanna Kitt 2016