The Poetry Marathon

I feel an affinity toward wildflowers
Sneaking out from underneath chain link and barbed wire fences
Kindred spirits
They always make me smile

I stop to say hello to wild poppies
We chat about the sunny weather
and the Delta breeze
We welcome the buzzing bees that come to visit

And we celebrate California Poppy Day, every year on April 6th

– Photo credit – Bia Riaz

Smart and sassy with a Liza Minnelli smile
The girl could light up a room
Beauty school was just the beginning
She had stars in her eyes
Big dreams of bright cities and fancy places
Small towns couldn’t hold her down
She had her walking boots and her favorite red dress
Nothing could stand in her way

And then there was that bitter winter in Pennsylvania
and she lost her way

Remember her name: Amy Matthews

The harvest moon was stunning
Shining through the torn canopy of our stolen Jeep.
We laughed and cried and held each other
At the edge of Glory Lake
Knowing the panic fear and horror, of the invasion was far behind us.

Most people don’t know this
I am a mutant

I read comic books as a child
I always wanted super powers
Like Spiderman or Batman or Wolverine
But who wants to go through some painful accident or experiment?
Not me, I thought!

So instead, I wished for super powers
I wished hard
Everyday
I drew fantastic pictures
and wrote amazing stories of all my adventures

I drowned out the noises of the rest of the world
and kept drawing and writing and creating
I just forgot to write an origin story
But it happened anyway

One day I realized
I had developed super powers
I became – Invisible Man!
It wasn’t easy
and I made some dangerous mistakes.
But I learned how to develop and hone my secret power.

Most people don’t see me or hear me
I can hide in plain sight
But only if I’m very quiet
I have to remember to avoid the ones who are immune
They are usually loud
and they give themselves away

Others look in my direction
but their eyes are hollow
That’s how I know their souls were taken
and they won’t alert the immune ones.
They are too afraid

They will never know my secret
and they will never ask
They will never travel to the places I’ve been
Experience the things I have seen
They will never know
I’m an artist
I’m a writer
I’m a superhero

A courtyard of dreams
Alive with entwined honeysuckle vines
and ancient roses
Musical sounds of small bright blue birds
and busy buzzing honeybees
Dancing and twirling, bold beautiful butterflies

They come to visit
They come to play
My fragrant garden of peace
Sunlit or Moonlit
A place to read
A place to paint
A place to ponder
A place for solace
A place to be

The darkness came swift
Carried on loud grey heavy winds of booming bomb blasts
From beyond the garden walls
Scorched earth and burning trees
Invaded and infected all that was
Broken butterfly bodies and wings littered the cobblestone
Vines burned and fell
Crushed by crumbling walls
All became silent
All became dark
For hours, for days, for an eternity.

And then,
Something small moving in tiny ways
Hidden behind the mangled dry brush
A sparkle
A tiny twinkle
Perhaps a flame?
A hint and whisper of gossamer wings
A firefly
A source of light in the depths of darkness
A reason to smile
A reason to believe
A reason to be.

They show up angry, hungry, afraid
Missing their homes, missing their beds, needing their moms
Some are defensive, some are shy, some tell tall tales
Some even invent dangerous games, and revel in the chaos

Yet you smile, you listen, you comfort
Your touch calms, your voice reassures, your eyes pay attention
The day twists and turns, yet you steer the ship through rough seas
with the expertise of a master mariner

Adventures in science, history, art,
Math, music, language and beyond, are laid at their feet
Golden keys to open locked doors and secret passwords to hidden portals
Unveiled and deciphered

Missing books, broken pencils, empty cabinets
Replenished and filled with portions of your meager paychecks
Those designer shoes and exotic cruises to foreign lands
will have to wait

While you spread magic
Share wisdom
and create bright futures.

*dedicated to my mom – Sarwat Riaz – artist, Montessori Teacher, and an extraordinary source of strength and inspiration

Into the thick of the nest
The sting is sharp painful and fast
Many red stains on the wood

Chocolate will be the death of me
Dark and decadent, full of magic and mystery
Tempting and teasing me with sugar and spice
See how it coats and cradles tiny tasty bits of fruits and toasted roasted nuts?

So evil and addictive, a dark and decadent treasure full of magic and mystery
There is no escape and resistance is futile; calories irrelevant
You cannot deny the power, as it coats and cradles tiny tasty bits of fruits and toasted roasted nuts
I am not brave enough to walk away

One bite and your palate is pleased, so really, resistance is futile, calories irrelevant
Chocolate will be the death of me
I cannot deny the power and I am not brave enough to walk away
From sugar and spice

Megalomaniac vs. another Megalomaniac
GMO vs. non-GMO
Conservation vs. Development
Artisan vs. Factory made
Citizen vs. Immigrant
Protestors vs. Police
Safety vs. Freedom
Hate vs. Love

Most of this frustrates me
Some of it angers me
All of it worries me

However
The thing that really keeps me up at night
Is the darkening sky
Has anyone else noticed?
I remember how it used to sparkle
So bright
So vivid
Full of detailed constellations
Mapping mythological tales
and fantastic adventures.

Some of them seem to be getting further away
fading, blurring, shrinking
Some just disappear

Up in the mountains, I can sometimes see them better
Closer, still matching my memories.
But in the city, they start hiding again.
How will we get them back?
What will happen when they all decide to leave?

When the night sky no longer twinkles, and the planets turn dark
Will it all signal the end?

Perhaps, I need a visit to the eye doctor.

The missing ring is here somewhere. Is it hiding in the pillows, or smirking behind the scarves? It may be covered in candle wax or suffocating beneath the pile of incense ash. The dark deep corners of the shoe closet are suspect; as well as the thick frayed edges of the Persian rug. Did the suction of the vacuum steal your presence and whisk you away a few days ago? You may already be on your way to new adventures on foreign fingers, in a land far far away. The leaves of the aloe plant, with their vicious spikes and curves, may have been be a potential landing zone. I haven’t the will or the inclination to scrape my skin quite yet. Soil embedded in my nails is never pleasant. Where are you? Will you sparkle for me?

My sneaky shiny silver friend
It is exactly where it should be
Inside the jewelry box