Stories

They
flow out our mouths
fill up our memories
fill ourselves

And yet our
selves
are not what stories
should inhabit.

Our identity
is not what has happened to us,
what is happening,
what will happen–

it is,
simply,
what is.

Your identity
is not your life story;
it is your life.

The fact
that you are alive
in this simple world
of overindulged stories
deluding our minds
with fictional realities

when the treasure,
all along,
has been sunken
in your own
skin.

 

August 1, 2015

Voice

Feel my voice

like a finger plucked across a rubber band

vibrations ringing through the air

breaking no twilight, no dawn,

only silence.

 

If you were so blessed

with a voice– use it!

 

Proudly, wisely, powerfully,

thoughtfully,

because a voice transfers more than words,

it moves worlds

from brain to tongue,

words I’m not always sure of

 

But I am sure of this:

I have a voice,

not an echo

 

mine, my own

to treasure and to keep

not locked-up in a chest

but drawn out, into the open,

 

like rain drops falling onto grass.

 

May 11, 2014