To Be Me

What a struggle

to be me,

sitting here

so patiently

waiting for a new train to come,

the last one long gone,

gone, gone…

 

We need nothing,

and yet there is longing;

we want everything,

and yet here it is:

everything,

sitting

on some stone in my backyard.

 

All alone, it has sat.

 

Patiently,

sitting,

in a station

I have sat at many times.

 

Maybe if it looked in on itself,

it would find patience there, too.

 

January 9, 2016

Rings

It would never have worked out anyway,

you and I.

.

Me,

a lonely tree,

still sturdy enough

to shelter you when there was rain

my own pain present in my rings–

you wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t made you ask.

.

You,

a fallen sparrow,

just looking for a place to stay

until you flew away–

your wings are meant for flying, you know.

.

Naturally,

we parted ways,

years floating by as you flew, and I grew tall–

I can see more beauty from a distance, now.

.

I stand my ground,

and sometimes look around

at the leaves I have spread,

effortlessly,

onto the earth below:

expanding pain and beauty and time

giving only wisdom back

to the soil–

they are called growth rings,

after all.

imgres.jpg

This weekend, I shared some of my work at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in NYC.  Considering I had not planned on this at all (had only expected to listen to some spoken word) it went pretty well! The experience paired with this lovely article (http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/the-mindful-life-illustrated-what-we-can-learn-from-trees/) inspired this poem…and for me to change things up and add a [google search provided] photograph.  Happy Monday! 

Anxiety

When you open up about it

I’m not promising it will be easy.

.

When the air becomes thick

like white cream cheese

and you can’t simply scrape off the edges

with a knife you wonder

who else is feeling this way?

.

I thought my mother did;

but she said, “What I’m feeling is physical,”

I thought the government did;

but they said, “She’s a terrorist

and he has a mental health problem,”

I thought a suicide every thirteen minutes

would be enough to prove

our grasp on this epidemic is not tight enough.

.

I want to say,

“This is physical,”

when it crashes over me

like a war-torn tide,

daily sabotage not unlike your migraine

I wish I could go swallow an Aspirin

but one pill in the middle of an ocean

will not magically make the water calmer.

.

It is when we realize that we are

the water,

the tide,

each speck of sand we trickle onto

they are sprinkled in our bones–

not unlike the stars

the heavens will always be there,

waiting.

.

For even at your worst,

peace is always flowing;

anxiety

is not you,

it is just a word

you may not feel it now

but feel your breath–

it has not left you yet

the beauty found in nature

is found in your own skin,

still waters under roaring currents

just as Love sits

under pain,

patiently.

.

When you open up about it

I’m not promising it will be easy.

.

I’m promising it will be worth it.

.

December 20th, 2015

spread some love today and speak your truth– you are worth it

Home

I’m not looking for The One.

I suppose I’m just looking for the one I won’t get tired of.

……

The number of betrays I have felt–

they are buried down deep

and it was not until I was ready enough to hold the shovel

that I could dig them out and start to peek

at the friends that I fell for,

the hearts that broke

a piece of mine away

and it’s like I’m still looking for the pieces.

…..

I never intend for much of anything

to happen

because once I feel like something is “home”

like someone is “home”

I want nothing more but to stay in one place

in time

and swim as the minutes swoon,

tears fall, smiles appear

…..

I don’t want them to go away;

this explains why my biggest fear is change

….

Not just any change,

like the nickels in my pocket,

the grass stain on my shirt,

my aging years, the new day coming

….

We learn lessons not from god,

but from his gifts

this world is nothing but experience

and yet all we want is not thankfulness,

but choice

between “who” and “what” and “when”

and the childhood friends that soiled your memories

or maybe just burned up the sides

of the one polaroid you have left.

..

All I want is to go home.

.

All I need is to realize, to accept,

that home is not the same place it was when I left it.

………………………………………………………………………….

May, 25, 2015