The Poetry Marathon

She peeks out
Gently pushing back the cover of darkness
She rises, slowly
singing the night its favorite lullaby
She coaxes night to fall asleep
The time is hers
Her time is now
Suddenly she breaks forward
with full strength
The clouds are ablaze with orange flame
And she rises
And rises
And rises

America’s past haunts its legacy
A legacy of democracy
A legacy of liberty, justice, freedom for all men
A legacy of creating a nation from nothing
The legacy and the lie of the American dream
CRT seeks to tell the truth
To break through the glass of lies
To raise the mirror and show America its true self
A truth hidden underneath packed and padded stories
histories denying colonialism and genocide
A past built on slavery and white supremacy
An untruthful past strutted like peacock feathers
Spread far and wide, for all to see
Our nation’s leaders are not ready to come to terms
Not ready to offer reconciliation for its past discretions
They prefer to keep things secret, to hide their heads in the sand
to not ruffle feathers, to let things LIE
They’d rather die than breathe in the truth
They’d rather toot stories of the theory being racist
It would cause Americans to hate their nation
But to love is to love all of it
The good, the bad, the beauty and the ugliness
You can’t just love the parts you like, those parts that glorify YOU
America’s past wants to be told
It wants to be scrutinized and reckoned with
America wants us to love all of her
Doesn’t she deserve it?

An oasis
in the
desert of city life

I saw her, a puppy of white and beige
Her panting resembled a smile
Her cute little face tugged at my heart
She barked and whimpered and whined
for my attention
She clawed at the crate
I walked closer muttering no with each step
Her soulful eyes sized me up
And again there was the smile
My refusal to love was blown away
Gone with the wind
She is one of the best decisions I ever made
Meet Kya, my new best friend

We had a good run
You and I
That would be true
if not for all the lies
I remember staying up and praying
holding myself at night
Wading through the darkness
Try to find the light

My head was a mess
and you broke me down
My days were dark
I could see no way out
Your words cut deep
And I was left to drown
My self esteem crumbling
Searching for the ground

Now all that is gone
I am happy to say
I clawed myself out
it was the only way
Learning to love me
I hold my head up high
I take it as a lesson
the nightmare of you and I

Erasures

Dear Former Self
Its been a long time since we spoke
But now the time has come to work on letting go
I been working to get us past the past
To release judgments and anger and collected hurts
the broken promises from self and others
I will make sure you are safe and protected
I will show compassion when you are feeling neglected
I will open you up, bring light to your wounds
that have festered and been infected
The time has come to heal
We have to stop bottling up and allow us to feel
No more fake smiles to hide pain
Your journey to healing will not be in vain
We will get through this former self, I know
It time for us to release all that hinders us and grow

As I writer I often dream. I am alone in a wood. My own personal retreat, to write, to decompress from city life, to get grounded. A log cabin on the lake is where I see me. A cabin surrounded by firs. In the early morning, my favorite writing time, a fog drifts in. Alone, I am on the porch, sitting. My journal lies open on a table beside me, my pen lies within its crease. Coffee mug in hand, I gaze out at the lake, now blanketed with fog. I listen as the wind gently blows. The firs whisper to one another, the house creaks, the aroma of coffee fills my nose. It is the night that brings me the most solace. I dream of how it rolls in, silently. With it comes silence, as it brings a hush to the daytime sounds. I am curled up on the armchair, a book in my hands, chosen from the shelf of the cabin’s very own library. I’m at peace, caressed by moonbeams, I read.

Boys have all the fun
They get play all day and run
They can fall down and get dirty
While I gotta sit back and be purty
Prim and proper is the way of the land
You gotta learn how to act to get a husband
No running, no jumping, no skinned up knees
You gotta be a lady and learn how to please
Boys got it made I swear it’s true
Sometimes I wish I was a boy too

A life of love she lacked
riddled with turmoil, pain
and unhappiness

A decision she made to heal
learned empathy, compassion
and self love

Now she is rooted in love