To Kill a Mockingbird

Each night at three, when stirs not a peep,
why, bird, must you sing another song?
Do you not know that people sleep?

I thought one night you were in league
for theft of sleep. You’re a deadly weapon!
You give me, daily, CHRONIC FATIGUE!!

But it’s you on a limb, alright;
not some fool’s dot mpv tricks
disturbing my dreamless night.

They’d wake me up on purpose –
my life’s basket of lunatics.
Oh bird, sweet bird, must you of sleep usurp us?

Surely, no other birds want to hook up.
Go find another branch, another tree, another yard!
Will you please just shut the fuck up?

Poem 12: “The Wisdom is Found in the Journey”

dear past self,

Stefanie at Seven

Dear Stefanie:

 

Remember when you were seven;

A little freckle-faced imp?

You weren’t always sure-footed

And often your big toe would be limp.

 

You liked to play with dolls

And brush out their hair;

And loved being on the swings

Flying high into the air.

 

At school you were smart

And wanted to be the first one done.

You thought if you were

You’d be able to have more fun.

 

Your friends were few

Except the ones in your head.

Going home when he was there

Was something to make you feel dread.

 

I wish I could hold you,

Old former self of mine.

You were so lonely

Searching for something you just couldn’t seem to find.

 

You lost yourself in music

And in making up all kinds of rhymes.

You’d play with your doll

And sing to her all the new lines.

 

I sometimes still feel I’m you

Trapped in a tender shell;

Wanting to escape,

Feeling doomed to hell.

 

Oh you sweet poor child

You never had the chance!

Never had the love,

Never learned how to dance.

 

Your next years weren’t better

And possibly became worse.

The hurt inside continued to burn;

Same chapter, different verse.

 

Oh you precious little girl,

With your eyes so blue:

This world is a sad place

One not meant for you.

 

I long to hold, squeeze, and protect you;

To shield you from all that is to come;

To save you from what you’ll go through,

Before all is said and done.

 

As you close your eyes, dear child

Lost in fitful sleep,

I gently kiss your forehead.

And for you–my self–I weep.

11. Moonbeam

11. Moonbeam

It’s past midnight

as I sip my coffee

and dig into my concrete filled brain,

to write some inspirational poetry.

Damn this fog!

Hush!

The croaking frog!

Glowing from a shimmering moonbeam

Inspiring a poem!

MOONBEAM!

Dear Former Idealistic Self, 20 Years Ago (Hour 11)

Dear former Idealistic Self, 20 Years Ago,

Twenty years is a blink, but you already know the relativity of time.
So listen, and change course.
The path you’re on, though good, is not the right path for you.
You feel lost and you’re searching for anything to give you stable ground.
But that ground leads you away from your dreams,
to a dead end that you’ll never forgive yourself for.
Don’t believe the lie that you were called.
You already know what you were born to do.
You’ll have to fight to do it, to make a way, but you can.

You’re an idealist, who gets a bad rap because you see reality, too.
As heartbroken as you feel, your hopes rise just as much.
But you must temper that hope with wisdom.
I’m so sorry to tell you, there are no miraculous doors that open.
You fight for everything, as you always have.
You are strong, even when you are at your weakest.
But don’t waste time hating that strength.
Be the Amazon you love. You’ll never bring her to life on screens of silver,
but you are a gladiator.
This is your path, though I know you do not want it.

Listen to your head before you go on your year long Academy adventure.
Don’t let religion brain wash you into believing in “the one”.
Use that year to build your dreams and education upon.
Don’t wait and flounder like I did.
Write, write, write, and write… one day you won’t have as much time.
And when you return home, let yourself get lost in the city.
Everyone else knows where you are, they’ll help you find your way.

You bear the weight of the world on your shoulders.
But none of it is your fault.
You must learn to cast the weight off, like a ball into the ocean.
Be brave and ask for all those things you don’t yet know how to do.
Answers will be given, then you can create the doors you want to open.

You have twenty years ahead of you.
Live them better than I did.

I’d Rather See You Cry

It’s so easy to hide it,
behind screens, or hands, or walls.
To tuck your pain away where it can’t
make things worse.  Or better.

I’ve heard voices break and connections go dead,
I’ve witnessed messages composed, deleted, and composed again,
Then still left unsent.
Or reduced to a single word.

I’ve had doors slammed and locked in my face,
backs turned to me, faces twisted away.
I’ve conversed through bathroom doors,
shields of hair and pulled up knees, comforters that failed to comfort.

I’ve watched faces seal the sorrow in,
seen it bitten it off with tightened lips,
beheld it smothered out by defenses I can’t image,
In eyes deep as the well of souls.

And I have hidden behind layers of my own.
Veils woven of dark humor, over walls built of analysis,
Around pain and fear and need I would burden no one else with.
Yet I expected trust.

Tears and trust are only easy for children.
For us they must be earned, and shared.
They cannot be taken, or stolen, or forced,
And they can be so easily lost.

I’d rather hold clenched hands and shaking shoulders,
hear sobbed imprecations and wailed confessions,
I’d rather let sorrow soak my shirt and pain pierce my heart.
I’d rather suffer together than hide separately, and suffer still.

Sweet Lady Jane

Those dark clouds are passing now

The sun shines on your face

Your eyes see right through me

I never could escape

Those who condemn our love

Where are they now?

I’m only concerned about

Our wedding vows, where I said

 

I promised to cherish you

In sickness and in health

How I would forsake all others

And love only you

For richer or poorer

For better or for worse

Till the day death do us part

Those are my vows to you

 

My sweet lady Jane

 

The years pass by way too fast

It seemed like yesterday

That I noticed you

Sitting across the way

In that glimmering instant

I knew I could not last

Another minute without you

I just couldn’t pass, then we said

I’ll love you forever

Forever and ever amen

We wouldn’t have to ever

Be alone again

I’ll be your sugar

And you’ll be my babe

And though dark clouds may form

We can fight them away

 

My sweet lady Jane

 

Two hearts become one

In a beautiful way

I will honor and cherish you

Starting today

You’ll never feel unwanted

I’ll never run away

Too much is never enough

When you talking about

 

My sweet lady Jane

 

Ship

While over looking the sea
One day
I saw a ship vanishing at the horizon
That made me realize
I can’t see the ship
But it continues to sail

There are things we don’t know exists
But they do
Out of sight
Not out of existence

Dear Past Me – Hour 11

I’m sorry to tell you this
But you chose wrong
My chance is already gone
But yours is not, little miss

I let myself guide me through all of this
It wasn’t bad, but also not my very best
All those wrong decisions – oh, please, they were my guest!
But you can do better, little miss

You can still choose your path
You can still make the right choice
Get better, and become a loud voice!
Just don’t end up as me – an unlucky wrath

Then again, what if life already planned it out like this?

Hour 11 – Dear Crystal, circa September 2007

Dear, Crystal, circa September 2007–

 

This is your 33 year old self. [I know you don’t like math, the year is 2019.] I remember you. And wanted to drop down a rope ladder for you to climb out of your early 20s.

 

I was thinking about you and everything that’s happening. About now your home has been surrounded by a half circle of law enforcement from across the state. You can see the jagged flashes of red and blue light smacking against the basement windows. I know you’re scared. Please know that none of this is about you.

 

You won’t get this for a few more years, but darling, you are a queen. Read quickly, now! The man with the lightning blue eyes will ask you if you “want to be another ‘inner city youth’ gone wrong.” He is an angler – do not fall for the bait. Throw your pack of smokes on the bed if you don’t want your family to see them. Yes, that is America’s Most Wanted in the front yard. Write nothing on paper, they will use it to fuck you. None of this is about you. Hold your happiest of thoughts close to your chest. Sing your songs. We make it out of this one.

 

You don’t have long. I know you are reading this in the dark, rocking back and forth. Be gentle with yourself and to the people trying to love you through all that will happen. Know that everything you are about to experience will teach you more about the ways others will dismiss you on sight or pretend to see you. You will learn that kindness is most important to share when things get rough. And that the ability to trust others will return when you learn to trust yourself again.

 

Somewhere deep, you already know who you are. Let that guide you. We have turned into a compassionate, intelligent, and magical Black woman. That is because of you!

 

And, my dear, we are doing fabulously.

 

<3

-Crystal, Age 33

 

P.S. – You can always crash on my couch and pet my kitty.