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Saturday, June 24, 2017

Holding A Poem

At times
Holding a poem
That is unfolding inside
Can feel heavy

The words
Lining up
To give voice
To pain

Other times
The poem being held
Links together inside
With ease

The words
Floating and light
Happy
In their release

Each poem
In need of shelter
As it forms

Today
The poem
I’m holding inside
Is heavy

And my job
Is only this

To show it respect
And hold it close

And give it
The time required
To form the words it needs
To be free

Vulnerable In This World

I can’t help but notice
They are so
Unprotected
Fragile
Vulnerable
In this world

Our children

But over time
With teaching
Lessons can be learned

With practice
Their little bodies
Will get stronger

Until someday
They no longer need
Our protection

I can’t help but notice
They are so
Unprotected
Fragile
Vulnerable
In this world

Our parents

The lessons they
Were meant to learn
Long since learned

Their weakening bodies
Never to be returned
To the strength of the past

From this point forward
They now and will always
Need protection
 
Our children
Our parents

Standing at
Different ends
Of vulnerable
In this world

Because they are new here
Or preparing to leave here

Each of us
Together here

With those
That we love
Dearly here

Finding our way
Through

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Your Heart Can Take It

Much like when
You can’t imagine

Lifting the weight required
For a final rep

One more burpee
Tacked onto an impossible set

Another pushup
Supported by shaking arms

And you push through anyway
Certain that your heart
Will explode

You learn this

Your heart can take it

In the same way
That your heart
Can take the pain

Of one more devastation

Of a rejection
Unexpected and deep

Of a disappointment
That has all the signs
Of being the one
That finally breaks you apart

Your heart can take it

Your heart can take it in class
Your heart can take it in life

Your heart beats
With a strength
All its own

Holding together
The very person
It beats
Inside of

Known Me Well

When I die
All my words
May die too

Erased from cyberspace
Hardcopies tossed away

But my writing
Will not have been
In vain

For by writing
I will
Have known
Me well

And all who’ve read it
Will have known me well
Too
 

My Own Voice

If you’ve always
Had permission
To speak

Had years of practice
Speaking your truth

Valuing your own thoughts
And expressing them
To others
Who value them
Just as much

Than you can’t know
What’s it like
To not have a voice

To have lived
Silenced
In many ways

You can’t know
The work
That being heard
Requires

How quiet it has to be
For me to acknowledge
My own true feelings
To even myself

How much space
Is required
For me to hear
My own voice

So this is why
You won’t find me
Yelling above the crowd
To be heard
 
Screaming my truths
To the world
 
Singing above
A whisper
At times

I’m still learning
To hear
The sound of
My own voice
 
So that one day
It can be shared

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Triggers

Basil scented
Meyers brand
Cleaning solution

Humidifiers

Gift shop rocks
With the word courage
Engraved

Bronchitis

These
Are just a few
Of my triggers

Each one
Uniquely linked
To my pain

Each one demanding
That I pause
Breathe deep
And remember
A harder time

I wonder
How many of us
Have triggers
 
Triggers that serve
As a parting gift

Of a trauma survived
 
Of an experience
That has left us
Changed

Invisible and Seen

In dreams
Where others
Want to fly
 
I want only
To be
Invisible
 
With my own will
To make myself
Un-seeable
And safe

So I find it confusing
That in my life awake
Being made
To feel invisible
Offends me

When I want
To be invisible
Please let me
Disappear

But also please don’t
Disregard me
When I want
To be seen

I want to be
Both invisible
And seen

Perhaps
I want
Too much