five years old.
a wobbling mass of uncertainty
perched haphazardly on a bike.
daddy holds me upright,
his strong hands refuse to let me fall.
pedalling, pedalling, faster and faster
a weight releases
at last, I'm flying.
six years old.
first day of first grade
I clutch onto my mom's hand
so many children, both familiar and stranger
letters, numbers, a line on the wall
a smiling teacher. I let go of her hand
sit in a green desk, grab a crayon
one last glance out the door
but she is gone.
ten years old.
suspended in the cool water
skis strapped awkwardly on my numb feet
a lifejacket rises tight around my neck
my mom behind me, holds me
right side up in a firm embrace
suddenly, a massive force
pulls me up out of her comfortable arms
through the deafening spray of the water
my mother cheers.
I'm gliding, and I've never felt so free.
sixteen years old.
my hands caress the steering wheel
dad's in the passenger seat
cautious, careful, I proceed
the open road ahead of us
we pick up speed, but then
a deer. his hand grabs my shoulder
my foot slams on the brakes.
I'll pay more attention when I'm driving alone.
we take a breath. we're safe.
eighteen years old.
I scan the crowd as I sit in
my crisp blue robe. my strange square hat.
no more unfamiliar faces.
just layers and layers of memories
blended on top of each other.
my name is announced
I stand up, cross the stage,
again, a mass of uncertainty.
again, awkward in my high heeled shoes
my dad holds my mom's shoulder
my mom clutches his hand.
once more, I'm forced to let go
in order to move forward.
a diploma replaces my mother's hand
crushing realization replaces my father's security
again, I'm flying
but things will never be the same.
c.l.c
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
I lost myself today.
standing in the rain
my umbrella dropped, forgotten
half submerged in the puddle
my boots squelching in the mud.
dancing to the rhythmic patter
each drop washing away
the molecules of pretence
mascara streaming down my cheeks.
inhibitions, fears, anxiety
gradually dissolved
by the universal solvent
leaving me naked.
leaving me, me.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
maybe finding yourself
and losing yourself
is the same thing
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
my mother warned me
about drugs and alcohol
how they claim your body as their own
and destroy the lives they touch
but she never told me
about the dangers of a boy
whose smile streams through my veins
stronger than any narcotic.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
To me, he was the sky.
Occasionally a pure blue
polka dotted with cotton clouds
spinning me in delirious circles
until falling breathless in the grass.
Sometimes an exquisite sunset
dyeing his colours in my skin
turning a plain, overlooked girl
into his "favourite piece of art".
But all too often a stunning storm
icy particles piercing my flesh
his words bruised on my cheek
leaving me shivering in his wake.
Mostly a dull, grey expanse
beyond feeling or caring
about anything, especially me
his name left hollow in my mouth.
Maybe I'm better off indoors.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
you are broken.
but, like coloured fragments
in a stained glass window
light refracts through you
and creates something beautiful.
you are fractured.
but, like a cracked brick
in a weathered sidewalk
a flower tenderly pokes its head through
and creates a patch of optimism.
you are crushed.
but, like a crumbling Greek statue
millions look
from across the world
and marvel at your power.
there is beauty in whole,
and there is beauty in broken.
don't overlook either.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
I've never been in love
but I imagine it's kind of like
skiing on a glassy lake
in the fresh July sunlight.
Or the bellyache you get
from laughing for hours
uninhibited
head thrown back, eyes watering.
Or the thud of the ball
on the worn hardwood floor,
the soft swish of the net
when a shot meets its target.
Love is like a lot of things,
and darling, you're a symphony
of sounds and smells and tastes and feelings
I could never tire of.
So maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I have been in love
with you, and this world, and everything in it
Because love is like everything
and nothing at once.
It's defined by its undefinability.
c.l.c
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
they don't tell you how it will feel
when you take off your jersey one last time
when you say your last team cheer
when you take your last bus ride.
well, maybe they tried to,
but I didn't understand.
because how can you tell me
the countless hours spent
in the gym, shooting with your dad
will be over in a matter of seconds?
how can you explain
the nostalgia that hits
when you play your last home game.
50 games. 50 wins and losses.
all a blur.
all over.
I'm ready to go, but afraid to leave.
c.l.c
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
I hope you find Your Happy.
the kind that makes your bones ache
and your eyes bright
and the wind into poetry.
I hope your laughter becomes the punctuation
at the end of every sentence
and
someone you love is there
to fill the gaps in conversation
I hope the Happy expands inside you
pressing from the inside out, stretching
like a balloon, until you float
above the dirt roads and grimy cities
and office chairs and phone calls
I hope the people take notice
and though they try to pull you down
you rise, and bring them up to meet you
and let them borrow some of your air
so you can float together.
I hope you come to realize
that Happy is poetic, too
and though this world is twisted, dark
there is always light somewhere
in every situation
every person
every town
if you know where to find it.
I hope you remember
that Happy is a choice
rarely easy, but always possible
and the world needs one less cynic
and one more dreamer,
and that person is you.
I hope you find Your Happy
and
I hope I find My Happy, too.
c.l.c
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC