The Poetry Marathon

I’d like to go to Tokyo,
Where I could be lost in a crowd
I’d like to order food by pointing to pictures
And waking up early to try sushi in the fish market.
I’d like to go to Tokyo,
And have people stare at me
because I look as different as I feel.
I’d like to go to Tokyo,
So that miscommunication would be a given.
I wouldn’t have to try so hard.
It wouldn’t matter
I wouldn’t be understood.
Yes, I’d like to go to Tokyo.

Listen to the song, child.

Find it in my heart.

Hear it in my ears.

Sing with my voice.

Listen to the song, child,

To the rhythm and sway.

Listen loudly

And then hide away.

Listen to the song, child.

Find your way.

Keep listening, child,

Even when it’s hard

Even when no one else can hear.

Listen to the song, child

It will guide the way.

Heat radiates above the tree line

As the coolness seeps in from the woods

to stir our lethargy

to revive us so that we may

sit in the twilight, outside the cottage

as the firefly leads the way.

Do not mess with me
I am an emotional mess
Disappointed by the world
by the people I love
I will find a way
I will prevail
I will fight a new day

The season of COVID-19,
came upon us
slowly, from China
Slowly, as it moved around the globe
We watched in silent horror
We saw the death and devastation 
Still, we were unprepared.

During the season of COVID-19,
we shut ourselves away
and hoped we were doing the right thing
in the right way
in the right time,
or at least,
in time.

The season of COVID-19 continues
How long this season has become
Too many deaths 
Our prejudices and biases
are exposed for the world to see
They say we are fatigued.
They say we are stressed and ready to break.
Instead, they add to it 
exposing others
and themselves.

The gentle sway of the boat,
Cool skin warmed by the sun
As it dries off the last swim of the day.

Chilled champagne skids down my throat, mixing with the salt left by the ocean on my lips.

My neck is arched as I gaze in wonderment at the sky changing over time, yet all at once from brilliant blue to a radiant orange.

Life well lived.

Life in balance.

Acceptance without judgement.

Love.

Peace.

“I heart you.” She says,
as he carves into the branch with his dull-bladed pocket knife.

His was the kind of knife a Boy Scout would have.

Only he wasn’t a Boy Scout.

The blade peeled away the bark in small flakes, eroding the trust and innocence of the protective layers.

She remembers,

”I heart you.” She whispers to herself.

Joy in her heart that the tree is thriving even though it is permanently scarred.

In this time of COVID,
I want to send you thanks.
My heart is full of gratitude for your service.
Did you know how needed you were? Were you able to to choose?

Were you given time to assess your immortality or did you think of patients to the exclusion of yourself.

We often think in terms of self-love in opposition to self-sacrifice. Your honor in serving others will be remembered for generations to come.

So, here’s the deal

After 3 months of shutdown

staying at home

and centuries of civil unrest

that erupted during covid

Our family has a picnic

Connections can happen no matter the distance.

People alone and lonely

tired of their own company

whining about their hair

and their dog’s hair

Mournful protests

of unrequited peace

Afraid to look inside

at what is important

Connections can happen no matter the distance

With a jerky start

and lots of arguments

we emerge trying to unite

we hear of more cases

In a distant place

and hope we are doing it right

Connections can happen no matter the distance

Ingredients

1. A generous supply of politicians, divided.

2. Virus

3. Racism

4. Opinions, laced with anger

5. A pinch of fact

Combine all ingredients.

Mix well.

Mix again.

Keep stirring the pot.