Bright-eyed young girl, Curious and crafty, Let’s start a project and learn to crochet. Tiring quickly, She abandoned the lesson. She couldn’t see past the first stitch- Obsessed with chains, with growing taller, The neverending line of connection So easily unfurled. Chains, chains, chains. Chains everywhere and every day. Quickly and carefully created by this crafty girl And unraveled even faster, The impermanence of childhood Displayed through her repetitive ritual. She lost interest as quickly As any other once-inspired child, And many years without crocheted chains passed Before a spark of inspiration woke her from her daze. Timid hands picked up threadbare yarn, dusted with age. Fingers moved as if possessed, Creating chains came so easily And her inner child was elated by the familiarity Of her once daily routine. The desire to unwind, to unfurl Pulled so strong within her, But the necessity To create, to give life, to build something that matters Overcame all else. She kept making chains. She made chains and then kept working. She kept building on the foundation To create something strong Something useful Something beautiful for herself. For herself, she kept creating.
Family
Extraordinary You
You are more
Than the sum
Of your lessons
Since the beginning of your time,
Stepping stones that lead
To potential
Forks, pitfalls, and hills
On this journey of life.
You are more
Than the difference
Of past and future colliding
The Impossible distance
From where you’ve been
And the peaks you’ve conquered
To where you’ll go
Speeding ahead into the unknown.
You are more
Than the quotient
Of your loved ones
Provided by a lottery
Good or bad
And the ones you choose
To reveal yourself to
Based on circumstance.
You are more
Than the product
Of society and individuality,
Pressure and instinct,
Colluding with each other
In public and in private
To create a version of yourself
For your success.
You are more
Than a complex equation
Of contradictories
That takes time and patience
For a solution.
You are more.
You are so much more.
Grievous Wounds
Words cannot express
The feeling that loss creates
When it inhabits your bones.
Who do you call
Who do you turn to
When there is no one to see your pain?
What do you say
When there are no words
For how you feel?
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Ocean Waves, Part 2
Our visit was brief
But necessary.
It was good to
Get back to my roots-
Seeing you
Brought back so many memories.
Hearing you call out to me
Made me feel like a toddler
Stumbling over their feet
When they’re learning to walk,
But trusting
That you’ll be there
To catch them
When they fall.
Thank you for reminding me
Of who I am-
The strength I was born with.
Our bittersweet goodbyes
Will not last forever.
I leave,
Walking away
With sand trailing behind me,
But turn back
For one last glance.
Just in time
To watch you wave.
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Pay It Forward
Anyone who is looking for help
On their darkest days
Or even in their happiest of times
Does not deserve to suffer.
The act of seeking support
Shows a desire to change
A hunger for growth
A passion to live their lives
In the best way possible.
The pursuit of self enlightenment
Finding one’s purpose
And traveling through the
Hills and valleys of life
With their dignity in tact
Is reached through
Helping others
So they can build their foundation
And support themselves
And helping yourself
Be the best version of you.
Happy Father’s Day to all of the Dad’s out there! This poem was inspired by my dad. He is the most giving person that I know, and has helped more people than I can count. My family continues to inspire me and teach me lessons about life, and I couldn’t have asked for better support.
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What Next?
I thought
I did all there was to do
Yet here I stand
On unsure footing
Stopped on a road…
Leading where?
Wanting To Be Alone
I’m holding on to you,
My dear,
I’ll never let you go.
But what if space
Is what I need? I may be
Here, physically,
But my presence isn’t present.
I love you
Don’t you love me?
Yes, but I
Love myself more.
The Broken Doll
She sits on the wooden shelf
An unwelcome grin etched on to her face
As the people around her
Mill around the house
Go about their day
And pay her no attention.
She waits
Patiently with her stiff limbs
Hoping all day
Today’s the day
When they come home
They’ll pick me up off of the shelf
And play with me.
The hour arrives,
The family trudges in
One
By
One
And they begin to mill around the house
And go about the rest of their day
Without a glance at the shelf
Where the doll sits by herself
Waiting for love.
On the Inside
A white Victorian dollhouse
Sits on the playroom floor
Untouched.
The children run around outside
Playing games they’d get in trouble for playing
If only they weren’t
Unsupervised.
Inside the dollhouse
The parents are cold and
Unwelcoming.
They have grown out of love
From constant fighting
Lying
Cheating, and being
Untrustworthy.
After many years
The dollhouse is falling apart.
The roof is collapsing
The support beams are cracking
Termites have destroyed the foundation.
And all the while,
The kids are playing outside
Unaware.
In Memoriam
High notes ring softly
In a repetitive rhythm
Encouraging the bass to bellow.
Together they play
In perfect harmony
In perfect cacophony
A welcoming sound
I’ve known for years.
The dependent treble falters…
Then frenzies until it unexpectedly ceases-
An angelic absence
Leaving the bass notes to calmly tremble,
A deep
Resounding
Heartbeat.
A familiar song
I’ll never forget.
For my Grandmother,
You’ll always be in our hearts
5/1/15
