Hour 2: Blank
The art of empty walls, blank pages
Intimidating, enticing, the artist, poet
What colors, lines, words, beauty will honor the sacrifices made to create this place?
What a blessing, a curse, it is to wield such power through brush, pen
Hour 2
banished for burning
creator of the islands
mischievous goddess
has Pele flowed on lava
to play with fire in Maui
Hour 2
What’s at the center of a black hole?
They say darkness, nothingness,
A crushing weight that nothing survives.
Others the absence of light, and nothing
More, just a void to float and see yourself
As infinitesimal as you really are.
But whether you are crushed or
Insignificant, I wish I could go
And live there rather than where I am
At 28.
Fairy Garden
I made a tiny fairy garden
beneath a willow tree.
Baubles, beads and tiny bells
graced its fronds of green.
I tied a button to a string
and it became a fairy swing.
Little flowers small and sweet,
their fragrance filled the air
I set in tiny potting pots
and placed them everywhere.
And then I waited
for evening’s light,
hoping for the sight
of fairies swinging
through the night.
Hope
Don’t recite this poem.
If you do,
then expect the falls of rain.
Maybe your heart
will stop that fuming thick black smoke.
Maybe your eyes are meant to
stay next to her glabella.
Things might change.
Maybe your heart is tired and not sick.
Reminder.
So don’t recite this poem,
If you’re not ready to fall in love.
If you don’t want the reminder
that love is in the air,
No matter what ship you belong to
It’s encapsulated within the petricho
Such a pleasant smell.
Her Escape
Her day took an unexpected turn
Even though she had secretly desired change
And she needed change, something new, different, dangerous even
She never sought it out, change that is.
But there it was, staring her in the face
Tempting her, challenging her
Waiting for her to commit herself to what could be.
She sees it, she wants it,
She needs it…NOW!
Each breath once controlled and predictable
Had now become rapid and noticeable and heavy and fast
Then slower, for a moment while she pondered
What would be, what could be
Stay or go
What will the others say
Would her choice be scrutinized,criticized
Or maybe, possibly, idolized
If not by them, but by the others that judge her
Or maybe by her, the one longing for something more.
She knew, deep down she knew
That opportunity was there for her NOW
She needed it NOW, she wanted it NOW!
The moratorium on her excuses had expired.
Grabbing the first rung towards her new beginning
She took one last look back to see
What she was leaving behind
Doubt and fear would stay
Her routines and unwavering predictability
Would stay
Her self imposed, unrealistic notions of perfection
Would stay too
And she smiled, a new smile, a genuine smile
Her grip on that first rung tightened
As she turned away from her past
She felt lighter, happier determined to follow
What had been in her heart and dreams
Leaving her comfort zone behind
Joy and excitement filled her
And she climbed…………..
I am twelve
remembering…I am twelve years old
my body changed
nobody is telling me how to care for myself
my mother doesn’t talk to me about personal matters
hygiene seems to be a tabu subject
I am so confused
why don’t I look like everyone else
I’m always so embarrassed!
it’s so hard for me to say this, even sixty later
my body, my hair and clothes are all dirty
I smell!
teachers never did anything to help me
today’s teachers are mandated to notice
even as I write about this now, I feel agitated and alone
the disgrace is always with me
it’s hard to shed a trauma
Dear Current Self, (Hour 2 Poem)
You are nothing and nowhere compared to where I thought we would be, but that does not disappoint me. I think even without you realizing it, you’ve managed to let go of the expectations of the world and you found yourself. You stopped following the paths of others and became who you wanted to be. You’ve struggled along the way, but who doesn’t? We’ve never known happiness, but I can see that you’re destined to figure it out. You have a curiosity about life that can’t be traded, diminished, or forgotten– even though it feels like it a lot of the time. You have become stronger and smarter than you give yourself credit for. You’ve escaped the expectations of the world, but now you need to escape the expectations I set for us. I know I had big dreams for us, but that’s the life of a dreamer. When having so many doesn’t lift you up, it’s okay to release them like a balloon into the air. We can’t hold on to every single one forever. This life is about more than than your accomplishment collection. Remember what it’s like to be carefree, and to have fun! Find the part of us that believed anything was possible before everyone told us it wasn’t. I know there’s a lot about yourself now that you don’t like, but I believe there is so much to love. Maybe the greatest thing you can do is to love yourself, and to let yourself be loved back. We’ve never been good at giving any of the love in our heart to ourselves, but I know you’re capable of doing so. Why are we so willing to give it all away, anyways? Give to yourself what you truly deserve, because you do deserve it. We deserve it. And know that no matter what you do, I will always be proud and view you as someone to look up to. I love you.
Yours Truly,
You 10 years ago
Hour 2–65 Years Ago
Back when the pants she wore were called dungarees
the tomboy and I roughhoused in the backyard at Bradley’s house
where a trellis produced white roses you could eat, so I was told
I had suspected a trick
but they tasted sweet
Amid the grappling and grunting
suddenly a mystery scent arose
an odd presence reached from the soil beneath us
puzzling the space surrounding us
We stopped
looked at each other and moved apart
We didn’t wrestle again
Someone’s words that feels like home
“Lately I’ve been finding a lot of inspiration in the work of others.
Often when I read a poem, there will be a line (or 5) that sounds spectacular and presents a really interesting idea, but then doesn’t explore it.”
When they talk about their inadequacy, I say “me too”, I feel it too
When they talk about their imposter syndrome, I totally know how it feels- so, ” me too”
So on days I want to trace my way home, I walk the path of their words
But they don’t describe this me that I know
They dance around the feeling but do not touch my tears on sad nights
Their hearts are not described to crumble and quake like mine does
They stand at the bank of the rivers flowing
But never enter it