When I look in the mirror I see
roses. Stark and stubborn.
Bursting from the cracks
in skin too plain
to do them justice.
When I look in the mirror I see
thorns. Threatening to break through the façade
so carefully contorted to fit
that cookie-cutter idealization
of a pre-packaged identity.
When I look in the mirror I see
monochrome; like the eyes of the beholder
who twisted my covert dissatisfaction into something--
maybe not beautiful, but at least
accepted, yes; eyes that couldn't behold
when I had my own ideations; couldn't accept
that underneath that soft, dull skin,
there were thorns.
There are thorns
and there are roses, too, when I look in the mirror--
they are engulfing my reflection;
transforming my figure into one that is unrecognizable
to those discerning eyes--
but not to mine,
these fiery red eyes of the beholder
which finally recognize beauty
worthy of love.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
see the thin film of the atmosphere
that sustains all of life
memories of the fragility of the Earth
pondering "why we exist"
on the horizon,
aspirations to seek out
habitable environments in the universe.
Ingenuity — that little helicopter —
defeating the odds
outliving its planned lifespan.
put the first woman and
the first person of color on the moon.
science is critical in answering
Are we alone?
implications beyond our solar system
how Earth evolved, and why
you could see from that altitude
how we're messing it up
the thin film of the atmosphere
that sustains all of life.
science is critical in
defeating the odds.
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 4:04 PM UTC
I have to believe
there is meaning behind
this life,
and why it all comes
crashing down sometimes,
a tsunami against
sandstone,
dreams that weren't meant
to be, shaping what
we were meant to be but
never dreamed,
like the first seedling on
a nursery log,
the way morels grow
after forest fires,
a planet and a sun born
in the aftermath of
another dying star,
light reaching closed eyes,
by which time it is soft enough
to ignite
something deep within
your heart knocked down by tsunamis
time and time again.
Broken dreams mean less
to supernovas
of which we are born.
Dying stars mean less
to sandstone shaped by tsunamis
which witnessed the end of dinosaurs.
Sunlight reaching soft closed eyes in
the aftermath of forest fires, reaching
seedlings on a fallen log
mean more.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 6:35 PM UTC
The soft night calls
turn off the car engine
let the silence in
The click of headlights
and darkness floods this space
a darkness you could fade into
Breathe the whispering glimpses of
feelings no longer
detached by time nor space
A whisper,
and thoughts come flooding back
A memory,
secrets too heavy for this body
One by one,
let them fly
Away, through time and space
Away, through dark and quiet
Away, through this soft night
Away
The kiss of mist, cold against pink cheeks
breathe in whispering glimpses of
feelings no longer
Detached by time and space
the click of headlights, turn on the car engine
quiet darkness dissipates.
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 12:51 AM UTC
remind me--
what was ever so romantic about
sunrises, rain, and morning coffee?
remind me how to find meaning
in the monochrome,
paint color into the mundane
and strive for imperfection.
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 2:32 AM UTC
watch the sun set red through wildfire smoke
from the roof of a battered minivan
that's weathered all the storms of
our Oregon mountain home--
we find ourselves here, repeatedly.
lost on rocky dirt roads by the cliff's edge,
trying to figure out what it means to be twenty
in a world that more and more these days
seems to be crumbling around us--
drive us somewhere never listed on the map,
with music blaring through broken speakers
we'll make our own destination.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
yes, we all wonder sometimes
if we are more than meaningless specks
on a dying planet and
yes, all things tend toward chaos but
you, staring up at the stars wondering,
are a counterexample
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 3:02 AM UTC
she walked me to the bus stop.
arm in arm sharing a polka dot umbrella in the pouring rain.
and now
the mirror of her smiling eyes
is all I can see
when I try to think about him.
about how
the world
wants me to feel
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 4:03 PM UTC
a little girl was raised by wolves.
they taught her to be fierce, loud and brave
how to sing to the midnight moon
and withhold no part of herself.
and even when her body changed,
they still treated her as one of them.
now she feels beautiful
in basketball shorts and a sports bra
and knows how to speak her mind
and play and fight and swear and laugh
and sing to the midnight moon.
and she loves herself
just as she is:
a wolf in a woman’s body.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 1:27 AM UTC