Lesson Learned

I’ve learned from you
how to suffer in silence,
refusing to voice
the pain we cause
within ourselves,
for fear
of raising concern
to the ones
we want to protect.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

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Love is Not a Fairytale

When I was young,
I viewed love as a fairytale,
with princesses in gorgeous gowns,
insecure and brought to light by the perfect prince.
I thought it was the Romeo and Juliet,
stories told as kids,
a rescue or a flawless promise.
I had not yet heard of Shakespeare,
or the origins of these Disney stories.
I had not yet known the horrors
in handing your heart to the shallow,
or withering in avoidance of the heartache
searching for the impossible.
When I was young,
I viewed the world in happy endings,
naive enough to see the ups,
but never the downs that made them.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Permission Zero

I picked up a pencil the other day,
drew a picture of my mother,
and listened to the way she’d say,
“what happened to the papers
on which you used to paint?”
I closed my eyes and listened
to the way her voice had glistened
when I cried the pages into pain
and forgot the feeling of permission
to create when called insane.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Bridge

When they told me about the bridge,
I wanted to be like everyone else;
I wanted to question your choice,
your final act, and why the jump
was curtains drawn before dawn. 

When they told me about the bridge,
I did not spill to them your secrets. 

I did not tell them about the stars that never dimmed;
the city lights that showed their promise to you;
the glow that would never fade like yours. 

I did not tell them about the reassurance in the wind;
the whispered secrets
the breeze cried into your ears,
telling you all the things that they would not.

When they told me about the bridge,
I did not tell them about the algae,
and how it promised a life,
in places otherwise deemed unlikely.

I did not tell them about the waves;
the way they danced
when the rest of the world froze at the thought
of being pushed and pulled by the unseen. 

And when they told me about the bridge,
I did not spill to them your secrets;
I did not tell them the truth;
that the best place to leave the storm
was by the beauty that calmed it.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!