poetry

I am joy.
I am light.
Let me hold your baby and breathe him in.
The scent brings tears to my eyes and warmth to my chest.
Let me love you, love on you
Be who and what you need me to be.
I am your friend, your sister.
More than a confidante,
I am your family.
I have dreams of happiness
and then I open my eyes and realize
I'm not dreaming, just being.

You know
You are a great talker
(Which is a nice way of saying that you talk a lot)
But I guess you don't always
Crack the chest open
And spread it all out
Onto the operating table.
But you can, you know.
You can if you want
And I will listen.

Two weeks ago I performed an original piece at an open poetry night. My buddy hosts these poetry readings, entitled "You're All Going to Die", on a regular basis and I have been a big supporter since day one. Sometimes I read something funny, sometimes I aim for intense; I always shoot for authentic.

Let me tell you about the force of my love.
It is fierce and uncompromising and sometimes it is even violent.
But not violent in an angry way,
Violent in a Lady way.
If you don't shut your door tight, and block out all the light,
my love will break it down, rush through the ground, and knock you around.
I'll try to lock up as well, to block the swell.
I am adept at holding it back. I am quick to rope it in.
Disguising isn't lying. But I keep on trying

I am she as you are she as you are me and we are all together.
We are a community,
a family.
I am your sister and your daughter and your mother
and I love you.
You are my brother.
You are my boy.
My girl.
I will reach my arms out as wide as I can
And I will hug you and your hurt and your joy
As hard as I can and for as long as I can.
Until you shake me off, almost uncomfortably,
because it is hard to know what to do when you are
squeezed that forcefully.
I want you to know that you are beautiful.

Every once in a while we are hurt and we don't even know why exactly,
Just that it is a little bit harder to breathe and a little bit harder to think.
To process.
To figure things out.
To breathe.
To contain.
To behave.
To listen.
We forget to be nice.
And the thing is, we are so hurt that we don't even realize that all of these things are happening to us, within us.
It sure is hard sometimes.
Even if you lose control for a minute or two
(Or twenty)
You will get it back.
You always do.

Today I am bamboo.
Yesterday I was not.
Tomorrow, I'm not sure.
There isn't a tree in the world that grows as straight as bamboo.
Today I will not bend.
Blow on me, push on me, try to break me with your words.
Today I stay the same.
My roots run deep and thick
And underneath it all is God,
And me.
And God.
Seriously . . .
Go ahead and try to uproot me.

Just outside the city is another world. Yesterday I felt a little bit like Alice except that instead of falling down a rabbit hole (Are rabbit holes ever that big, I wonder?) I found myself climbing strategically placed logs and rocks up a steep mountainside. Though she never complained, I am sure my hiking companion was sick and tired of hearing me rant about the wonder of it all. For some reason, I forget that mere miles outside of our urban lot exists forests and lakes and gigantic trees. GIGANTIC trees.

Moon, moon, so blazing and hot.
Two words generally used to describe your nemesis-
Or do you consider the sun a cohort?
Some nights reduced to a sliver, and other nights-
like last week-
Full bodied and magnificent.
Your power was evident
in the way you made yourself known before it was even nighttime.
You drew people out of their houses
with no agenda in mind,
other than they wanted to see for themselves
What was causing the city to glow.
Your light made them want to kiss,

Today is Thursday and that is all there is to say. Instead of thinking of creative things to write about, I find myself continually stopping to look at the header of my website. My friend described the picture as heavenly, and I feel that is an apt assessment.

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