grounded

these days

are meant

for grounding

.

let me

open up

my willow arms

and sink

my roots

deep into

 the earth;

at a time

when the world

can’t stop moving,

the ground is still

and I think of you

.

pairing off

into two colored lines,

one yellow, one red,

from the blood we’ve shed

after years of chasing

each other

.

now, we are here

.

here, we sink

into soil

and sprout

like flowers do

.

pick me

from the ground

and place me

in your hair,

why don’t you care

.

tell me

you love me

through the wind

and you’ll never

have to tell me

again

.

you,

my daffodil

and me,

your rose,

grounded

in this messy,

torn-up

love

December 14, 2015

Blood

It is sacred–

like limited water

running across the Sahara

I nourish every sip

of forgotten holy land,

hand born privilege

unlimited love

my face mirrors my father’s,

gives thanks to my mother’s

three-time-giving-birth-

to-poetry

that kept the old river running,

just added some new water to the brink.

 

Family:

it is sacred

for never will a friend abandon themselves

to meet me at the train station, the airport

California air, full sun

reminding me I will have my blood

always,

albeit running its own course,

it will continue to run to the bottom of our sea.

 

August 31, 2014