Poetry

The ballad of an onward bound woman;

I saw the winter wind grow cold,
It made the flowers wilt.
The sun would never show its face,
Hiding from its guilt.

Until the spring season came,
The village could not see
A starry sky above their eyes,
To help them fall asleep.

She gazed upon a frozen pond,
Asking questions like this:
“Will I ever escape this cycle,
What living have I missed?”

She decided then she had to go,
Far beyond the village gardens.
A bright, warm world awaited her,
On a journey she departed.

On foot she left her family’s home,
With no plans to return,
She reached for something farther than
The landscape she had learned.

Settling down outside of town,
Troubles did not disappear,
Yet now she had an open sky,

That saved some of her tears.

Connie

Flowers wilted at her passing.
Sky grew a darker shade of gray.
Students sobbed in silence,
Placing flowers at her grave.

A mother of four children,
Though she never saw them age,
Never got to seem them marry
Or go off to graduate.

At the end of May I’d miss her,
And be reminded of her smile,
A gleaming face reminding me
How good it was to be a child.

A child with a mother’s hand,
To guide us and protect,
No one else could understand
The pain of when she left.

If only she could see me now,
In a tear-stained graduation gown.
If I squint through the stage lights,

I imagine her in the crowd.

To Be Whole 

The voices inside were always her own,
And always alone.
The stars looked so beautiful,
Even on nights she hung her head low
Knowing she had no shoulder to lean on.

The hand she held was always her own,
And always alone.
Tears dripped off the bottom of her chin,
Down to the shirt collar,
With no interruption to wipe them away.

It was easy to count the sidewalk steps,
An inner dialogue composed of unsung melodies.
With each step she was reminded
Of the few certainties she had left.
She couldn’t betray herself.

She didn’t mind staring blankly at an empty
Restaurant seat across the table,
Or putting on a record
Just to watch it spin in circles

Until her mind spun in circles, too.

another summer rainy day

You were like a rainstorm on a summer day,

The skies would open up,

But the sun shined anyway.

It would turn the heads of neighbors,

As the kids ran out to play.

You were there for a moment,

To cool off the summer streets,

But here I was hoping,

That you weren’t ready to leave.

Yet storm fronts move out,

Clouds just keep on rolling,

I guess that I know now,

Exactly where you’re going

You’ll move into the next town

Let them splash in a puddle or two

You’ll evaporate in a flash

Nobody will hear from you

But I guess,

That’s okay,

I’ll just wait

For another rainy summer day.

sunshine in your smile

we take the time to marvel at sunsets.

the way the wispy clouds and radiant hues seamlessly coexist,

painting the horizon anew each evening.

we stop and appreciate its beauty,

without a second thought.

we capture it in pictures,

spend years trying to find the words to describe it.

how are you any different?

you were created by a maker who made you beautiful.

he crafted you, he sculpted you,

and loves you as a creation of his own.

there’s sunshine in your smile,

even when your overbite tells you to hide it.

there’s peace in imperfections

Yukon River

Tucked away in a dark nook
Of the earth, a desolate cabin
Creaks erratically with only
The trees surrounding to hear it.
Mountains awaken on their own time,
Glistening like freshly polished produced
At the farmer’s market
323 miles down the road.

The awakening earth transports
Me from slumber. I watch the steam
Rise from a blue mug of hot chocolate,
Letting the marshmallows twirl 
In their own enchanting dance.
Its warmth provides a temporary
Sense of comfort.

Wind-burn turns my cheeks
As red as the holly berries that peek
Through the layers of snow that cover
My foot path to the river.
The river where I collect salmon to eat
And spend my days thinking.

But today, I go to the river
And its current is halted
In frozen shock and I do 
Nothing but gaze into the water
And look at my own reflection.

Tangled, matted hair underneath
Many layers of hats and snow gear,
Feeling more like an entanglement
Of clothing than a sense of being.

The glassy surface that used to carry
The weight of a swirling memories
Of childhood, now just a mirror.

Sometimes I wish the stars
Weren’t my only guide.


How do I find myself among the icy millions?

To Be Alone

When you’re alone,
You count the steps back home.
You listen to the artificial birds chirp
As you wait to cross the street.

The rain is no longer an adversary.
Its droplets illuminate the sidewalk
In a haze of colorful bright lights
Like a painting you once saw.

You hum a tune from the radio
Yet can’t quite place the words
You’ve forgotten.
It sounded much better in the car.

Your thoughts bounce off the walls
Of your brain like a screensaver
On an old computer waiting for
The mouse to be moved.

The traffic noise distracts you
From the inner commotion
Orchestrating a symphony
You’ll forget before bed.

In a quick moment of relief,
You discard your burdens
As you enter the doorway
Of a desolate living space.

You’re still alone,
But at least only the stray cat
Outside the door can hear

Your terrible renditions of Taylor Swift songs.