Bestowed

When needs
Are routinely met
 
When a life
Is well cared for
With warm clothes
And kind words

When the outlook
On the horizon
Is hope

And the view 
Over the fence
Is a gentle field
Of wildflowers

There is
A certain license
And freedom of agency

An unearned
Though not underserved
Pass
 
A breath of air bestowed
 
That frees up the energy
To dream
And laugh
 
That frees up internal space
To plan
And get ahead of
Life’s curves

And the lives
Of others
With piled up
Unmet needs
 
With noses pressed up
To the fence
And no boost up
To see over it
 
With energies spent
On the daily work
Of self-preservation
 
May be good
But not nearly
As sweet

And this is how life goes

We have paths
That offer us different tools
Ask of us different things

And we become
Who we are
Because of them

Antidote

I have found it

The antidote to
The ever present emptiness
The striving for approval
The longing for acceptance
 
To the figuring out
New ways to earn
Love

Painful
In both
Its simplicity
And delivery

It is this

It is looking into
Your own eyes
And approving

It is acknowledging 
Your weaknesses
And accepting

It is offering  
Your currently flawed self
Love

It is realizing
That you are worthy
And always
Have been

Awkwardly

Please let us
Keep talking

Awkwardly
If we must

Keep sharing our words

Sharing our worlds

Keep hearing
Each other’s

Uncomfortable
Stories
 
Because it’s the silence
That denies
Existence

And the silence
That is literally
Killing us
 
But it’s our words
However clumsy and
Awkwardly formed

That bring us
The warmth of
Community

And point us
In the direction
Of life

Bittersweet Dream

Have you ever had
A bittersweet
Dream
Come true
 
A deep desire 
Put aside
In the name
Of practicality

Somehow revive
And insert itself plainly
Into your life
As if
It has always
Belonged
 
A dream
Not for one minute
Forgotten
But neither
For one minute
Considered possible

A dream
That you are afraid
To reach out and touch
Because it has already
Been mourned

A dream
That turns itself into
A beautiful reality
Bittersweet and
Painful in the beauty
That is brings

Floated Down The River

I don’t
Speak words
Of comfort quickly

My thoughts
Need time
To form
 
More content
To create words
On paper
 
To be floated
Down the river
 
And eventually
Catch the wind
 
That blows them
Into the lives
 
Of those
They are truly
Meant for

Offer

When tears
Flow

When hearts
Hurt

When bitter life
Comes round

Touching
Those

I love

I can offer
To catch
Some tears
 
Can offer
Somehow
Humor

Can give
The soft presence
Of companionship

To sit
Respectfully
Alongside pain

Without pretending
To take
Its place 

Strong Medicine

Mercifully there is
Strong medicine
For those nearing end
Of life

Making it so
Those we love
Aren’t in needless
Physical pain
As they die
 
I only wish
There was
Pain medicine
As strong 

For those tending bravely
To their dying

For those staying present
During last days

For those brokenhearted
Left behind 

The Girl Who Makes It

I am the girl

Who makes it
 
Who carves

Her life
From stone
With just a chisel
And her will

Who recreates herself
On the fly
Because that
Is what survival
Requires

I am the girl
Who goes
Through hell
And is
Destroyed

Yet
Somehow
Here
I am

Bench

When I die
I do not want  
A casket or a stone
 
I went a bench
 
Somewhere out
In the world
With a view
That is calm

Solid and simple
Kept up and comfortable

A bench
That welcomes
All people
To rest

A bench
That people bring
Their troubled joyful
Souls to
 
I want for them
A place
To stop

To mark
A moment

A decision
A time

A bench

Where people
Can be still

And savor
This brief life
Before
It’s gone