Poems

When I was Twenty…

At twenty, I looked for Personality everywhere but, in
Here.

When I was twenty, I looked for
Style
With someone else’s name on it.

I looked for my Dream in famous people’s songs.
I sang Their songs with heart, but it was
Their voices I heard,
Not Mine.

At twenty, my 501 jeans didn’t fit me, at all,
No matter how hard I tried.

When I turned twenty-one, I looked for my soul in another country.
Upon my return, I discovered it in the pocket of my
jeans,
along with my heart,
along with someone else’s song.

Still, my clothes didn’t fit.  I sang other people’s lyrics
and the labels on my shirts didn’t match the labels on my shoes.

Nothing seemed to Fit.
Nothing seemed
Me.

Now, a long way from twenty, I leap into the Unknown,
with a smile.
My smile.
My outfits don’t always match, but either do I
and
it
feels–good…

When I was twenty,
I wanted conversations with everyone else,
But
Me.

Now, I revel in silence.  I talk with
the Me
I was looking for
So-long-ago.

She and her jeans fit
just
Fine…

(L o v e)

If I were to find myself in a Dark and empty room
with just
you…
I would–see.
I would–feel.
I would–know.
I would–under-stand.
By the urgency and beating of my heart,
in the Dark, I would–
Find
You.
I would not have to travel far in the Emptiness;
In the Dark-ness, to know–
You-surrounded-Me.
In the blackness and Vacuity of the room
I would–understand
without sound
without words
without touch
all the love that existed
in all the worlds;
of–now
of–before
of–even–another
Time.
If I were to find myself in a Dark and Empty room
with
just
You
I would feel and see and know every thought you had.
And in knowing every
thought you had–
I would
know
Love…

***************

I Am the
Thorn
that Scratches at Your heart,
every day that you deny
Passion.
I Am the Hint of Breeze on that
hot summer night, reminding you:
Breath
Is
every-Thing.
I Am the Love that will Save you
and the world, the instant you…
Awaken.
I Am the Bee that stung you last week
and reminded you:
Pain equals:  “I Am still Alive!”
I Am the Wound that you Healed
and the Healer that once Wounded…
You.
I Am the Harsh Wind
and bitter flecks of ice
on a cold winter day that bites and tears at your flesh…
simply
because
I
can.
I Am the Face of Pain in the Eyes
You-turn-away—from.
I Am
P e a c e
on the last day of the world, whispering,

“Wake up, wake up it’s not too late!”

*******************

I Am
a Budding Every Thing
patiently waiting for the
Sun’s Light
to Open Me
Up
on This Gray Day.
I Am Brightness
shining behind your tired eyes.
I Am  the Safe Home
for your weary thoughts.
I Am the Field of Poppies in which
you pray
to get L o s t in.
I Am Your
H e a r t
Opening
to miracles for
the
first
Time.
I Am the Wonder
of Possibility—Colored in
Red.
I Am the Secret
in the  Garden of Your
Soul…
always at the Bottom
G l o w i n g.
Dulcis in fundo
I Am…

***************

Santiago…
You are The Tree.
tall and age-
less.
So much Knowledge
outside of
you.
Where is the Life hiding within
your Sturdy Boughs?
Waiting.  Wanting—
to be
Released.
In your Dreams
you imagine
to be
just
the
Leaf.
Dangling between the
Thread of Breath & Death.
You Swing, You Flow.
You
Go.
Without Knowledge you
Fall.
Laughing.
Because you know of no End, you
Fall
Content.

*************

H e a v e n.

There is a Silent Place in between
Time and Space.
In this Silent Place you will become
all that you have ever
dared
to
dream.
In this Place of Quietude
you will fall in love…
for the first and last time
(over and over again).
It is in this Place of Stillness where you will
discover and uncover
(F r e e d o m)
as you have never known freedom to be.
In this Place of no Sound
you will hear every-thing wonder-filled and
you will never want to leave—
but please do.
(Heaven is not ready for you, full time.)
You were there, just for a visit,
but a visit is all you will need in order to
remember that Heaven is That Quiet Place
you can visit, on earth,
until the earth is no longer yours to visit anymore…
(Enjoy the Silence, but be sure to come back!)

(two poems inspired from my classroom observations)

*     *     *     *
Your Own

I Am the
Everything
You Dreamed me to be
But did not
Become.

I Am the
Hope
That disappeared
After the Lullaby you sang to me
Each night that I
Cried myself to sleep.

I am the Dose—one too many
That over did me and
Unraveled
The Two of You.

I was the Spark and the Flame that Burned with
Desire
and made you
Proud to call me Your Own.

But when you didn’t see me looking, I caught a Glimpse of the Two of You.
You Modeled me a Picture, I followed to a T.
And so, the Who of You I turned into, was never supposed to be…
Me.

My dreams have Died.  Now you sit by my side.
(the ventilators keep me breathing) yet I am not really Here.

Still, I can feel
Your tears wet my withered flesh.

And you sing to me
One Last Time…
The Lullaby from when I was still
Alive.

*     *     *     *

I am a
10th grader.
Gender, unrecognizable to my
Self
Perhaps to you as well.
Do you See Who I Am?

(I don’t either)

I want to cry, but I forgot
How.

I am constantly castigated with depraved, yet familiar voices; adamant
Faces, crowding and raping my
Soul.
Voices. Faces.  The Albatross around my heart, keeps me from
Self-Governing.

I am only 16 years old.  Struggling in a Society that holds no room for autonomy,
Only antipathy and
Gloom.

(emerson knew this too)

I am a 10th grader.
I want
Freedom
The Self-Reliant kind.
I am a Barrage of feeling-less
Technology.

If I could remember what it felt like to not be
Numb,
I guess I would know that I was
Sad.

I crave to be seen with
Candor, Ebullience and
Love.

If I could see All that I Am
Without the Noises, faces and Words—
Who Do You Think would be revealed to me?
(you are right.)

I would be…
Ecstasy.