Spark

I am a
tumbling
fumbling
mumbling
bumbling
mess.
With a spark inside
brought to life
by a woman whose joy breached pain.
More than a learned skill,
A choice.
A choice she made to sacrifice
her physical comfort for me
in life and death.
She gave joy to me.
Now this spark stays &
I am a
burning
flaming
blazing
glowing
mess.
An unwavering human mess.
Happy to share
my Mother’s Joy.

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Is that you? In the wind?

Mommy, 
I like to think that sometimes you are the wind

Or there’s a machine to control the wind 

and you get a turn.

When my toes are in the sand & a rush hits my shoulders, I think of you.

When I feel the wind on my cheek, I think of you.

When a gust wraps its arms around me in the street, I think of you.

You’re always there: watching & guiding & whispering.

I quiet the world,I can hear you. 

I hear you in breath, I feel you in a breeze.

You’re love is a guiding wind.

It grew so great that you had to leave

so you could be everywhere.

Everlasting, Eternal air.

A Memorial Day poem

When I think of you and I cannot call,

a mournfulness envelopes me,

but I don’t feel small.

It’s because of you that I do not hide.

Safe in this space; in shining armor,

you’re our knight.

when life pushed, you pushed back harder.

We remember you: the light & the darker

You deserve all love & honor.

———————–

Happy Memorial Day!

Rainbows in closets

I’m sitting in my unfinished closet.

In the middle of my room sits a faucet.

I’m ready, open, and embracing change.

any form will do.

Feels oh so good to smile at the sun

and feel it smiling back too.

My closet’s calming.

I could sit here for days.

But there’s life beyond this calming paint-

A rainbow of mints, oranges, greens & grays.
I find the longer life gets,

the more colors I’ll see.

In smiles, in hearts, in closets,

and sometimes in me.

Finding myself

Looking in the mirror

trying to see a change in my face.
These dark thoughts are a trap

and I’m sitting here wrapped,

enveloped in them.
Thoughts of isolation 

I cannot entertain.

I wonder if you can see 

any of the pain.
if I had a journalistic mind

then I could see a why

or dig deep till 

the hard to swallow pill of reality 

falls from the sky.
it’s in these thought traps 

that I could spiral

till the dark craves a spark,

a light to rival.
Positivity is a means of survival.
It sneaks in when the sun is low

and thoughts are too

till everything glows

and I’m made new.
I crave the light 

like I’m drowning under water.

my next breath a hug,

an embrace I didn’t know I needed.

Though this face didn’t betray the cry,

my heart must have pleaded.
Looking in the mirror

and I catch a light 

that’d be useful in navigating

these thoughts in the night. 

Gratefulness

Beholden to my Mother.

I’d say that’s true.

For loving me so much she’d rinse my crying eyes of shampoo.

Beholden to my Father.

For there’s no doubt 

that he opened the door for all the laughter the world would allow.

Beholden to my sisters.

There’s no room to question

that they’d cross the universe with me at the slightest suggestion.

Beholden to my brother.

For that is certain.

His smile fills the room like the sun when you draw back the curtains.

Beholden to my Grandmother,

I’ll always believe

her spirits larger than anything I could conceive.

Beholden to my heart 

with no hesitation 

Their love fills it with a joy beyond explanation.