Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
It’s not that I do not understand the ways in which leaves fall silently to the ground it
is just the thought of you falling that I cannot bear, so instead of being prideful, cruel, unforgiving, I swallow the knot in throat and put aside the “she doesn’t know what is good for her” “ what a pitiful thing” and turn around extent my hand and try to catch a beautiful leaf
I cannot let you hit the floor
it is not in my nature to be like so
even as you watching me stumble through youth and lack of judgement

It is not in my nature to be cunning, it is not in my nature to be insincere And if lose
I rather lose knowing I lost with grace
gently loving, catching leaves
uninterested in the opinions of others
Who knows what tomorrow’s flowers will be like
Today I must go in deeper for shelter
I have no option but to furrow and dive
into my own skin
Today I must go within
If you need strength take mine
and if you need heart
borrow some of mine
you will be alright
I tried my best, and even more
but who can compete with time
or with silence
Poems are do not need length
they need depth
I am ready to delve into you

To feel the edges where your words flopped over and bent into themselves

To say more than “don’t worry”
to pull up a chair and read you literature          to soothe you –coming from all over the world; wisdom cannot be monopolized
nor can love

I am ready to see the laughter bubble in you
and share in the exalted episodes of ecstasy; heaven is in the never ending now
Among my prairie of tears, I planted
sweet corn singing
Look at little things
profoundly–
they will do more
than whisper
I scrape old paint off of my forehead's wall
I am smoothing it out as we speak
I got a new finish-my words of self-love are the final varnish
You are in mine
too
So much so
that I quit trying to get you out
of the veins
that flow like rivers
throughout the entirety of me
I should have told you that there were no coves to run to on this beach’s coast; when I think of you, there is only sadness. The waves crash and the rocks are all ragged, what you hide is yours forever, your responsibility—it isn’t my boat or oar to tend to and maintain
Wahh
I amaze my self
at the way I laugh nonstop
with my friends

how I am still so curious
and in love with learning
how I sink in deeper
and deeper until I dissolve

I have not only returned to myself
but I have leaned in further

ripening and softening
right here right now is the best
not yesterday not in some years
right now :)) and it makes me smile
and it makes me want to dance without any background music
because I have worked hard
and changed so much to be who I am
took risks, fallen and gotten back up, this heart has not been timid it’s been a steady monk
and it has circled back to now
and now is so good it makes want to shout
If you wake have it be with peace and in a lot of silence that has no fence, and stretches as far as the eye can see.
You are bright and clear
as a morning without fog
so I walk to you
5
7
5
This is enough
walking down the stairs as it opens up to a wide corridor, these people, this place and me
as I am –enough

and all my dreams in the bending
of my wrist
all of my heart can be found
spread out inside  pulsating chests
within all the people around me

My whole existence a blink and simultaneously
an eternity in the shared
look, that give my loved one
eyes to eyes endlessly suspended
in this sea of living

over our small dinner table I could be finite
and I could be infinite
As dangerous as walking a long road with the wrongs shoes
and trying to adjust them over and over
as if somehow that will change their material
   their essence
   everything has its own way of being
just because the shoe fits does not mean it can help you make the journey
joy is a compass and you shouldn’t wait until sharp pains
arise over and over
I awake with a dream of you, that carries over into the next day.

I keep it warm and in my reach, so that if winter ever seems too cold the thought of your smile might warm me starting from the inside out.
It is you that I hungered for
on the desolate wings of nameless birds
over terrain new to my carving eyes
for the entirety of my morning light
a spring has run, and I dirtied-nosed
rugged from the terrain have always sung
your cascading waters even before it knew
I felt the outpouring exit me
The river is the home where the well soothed water flows
and it runs with a purpose: to the sea
It is no longer frozen in its own block somewhere up in the mountains
it is no longer isolated in a small lake

it has taken the best course to find the greatest vision of itself: the ocean  
watch the water flow by and watch her flow with it
the more my tongue moves
the more arms I give to my words
and the more they take a hold of the twigs on the sidewalks
and the more they become life lived
oozing odes and homeric verses
suckling sunlight and holding the stanzas
from Sunstone in their palms

–precolumbian whispers
and sunsets before sumerian law  
hint at a time when poetry was one with the body
poesy inherent in all things
when no compartments could hold life and
all disciplines were limbs of the same majestic creature
sighing with relief over its infinite realm–  

and the less I need to chase words
in order to taxidermy them
and then place them into curiosity cabinets
and the fewer words you will see on the outside of  me
and the more adjectives you will see fused into my skin

the longest wavelength reflecting over my cheeks will become the longest poem I'll ever write
We
We
We forget that we can call beauty
and if it does not arrive
we can make it
we can witness it
we can be part of it
we can choose that finally our lives deserve
to be instruments through which beauty and all loving goodness flows
authentically humanly
stumbling some days
harder than the others we devote ourselves to consciously creating more harmony within our own beings
We all must grow
and we all need to be challenged
to sit within ourselves and face the fear
face what stands in our way  
towards becoming more loving
and at the same time more authentically ourselves

archive past mistakes
and learn to forgive ourselves
for not being wiser
–wisdom is a gift of time
with every experience carved into us
with every partnerships with friends
family and lovers aimed at the growth of spirit
we heal

everyone shows us we are whole
That divinity is our inheritance as they walk us to the door of our own soul


Nothing, no one, no possession is enough –none will ever be–
because you were born complete
We all make mistakes it’s a “tell me yours and I will tell you mine” kind of deal
Its not about not making mistakes its about fessing up to them
No matter if one is a week late, months late, years late, or decades late
We are all gifted
in different ways we are made
as infinity plays and giggles
expressing its abundance in form

but it is so hard to remember when
the strictness of dogma
and judgement get in the way

art is powerful
but an act of kindness is just as profound


we are all gifted
all these little desires
make us just right
and prepare for what is meant for us
what feels so familiar it cannot leave us
I think about all the times we beat ourselves up for not being good at something or not having a specific characteristic.

“Why can’t I be good at ______.” I think we’re all made to fit into a little puzzle and when we find the right place and the right people we light up the most.

I see that everything that makes me odd to some makes me beautiful to others and those are my kind of people :)
the sun whose radiance
beams over me sets off the production of vitamin D

the water that runs down my body as I shower
does more than caress me
it cleans me and it becomes the base of my ****** fluids
60 percent of all me is water

the air that I cannot see is a constant visitor
entering and exiting
one failed appointment or canceled visit
and I would be dead

we are always loved by all the things around us that unite to make us possible
what more than the love of this world for these tender bodies
and its temporal gift of a vessel
for our awareness and existence

Deeply, fundamentally how could we not be loved?
And when they tell us how foul we  have been
The many wars we have waged
How ****** and separatist our histories have been
when they cry in full rage
full of resentment towards our direction

We will say “baby, that is less than half
of what we have been.”

What about the silence
what no one could describe
–no mouths,
no language deep,
or high enough–
for its daily beauty was (is),
too profound

Fibers of life
made from those soundless instants
woven in clear thread
holding the seams of this existence jointly together

Present at the second a mother reaches out her arms
to meet those of her crying child: soothing, healing, comforting, warmth
–no words could raise a flag and reign  
in absolute totality
over its meaning
over life

Just like adjectives cannot describe
my smile greeting yours; our sacredness,

Our brilliance is here in the absence of words
If you are to judge us; judge us by the quiet moments
(that you too can touch and that survive us all)
judge us by the mighty stillness
(the root and anchor of it all)
Weave again,
I am worth the re-weaving of a life
as many beginnings as I need I will hand myself

Weaver of my own fate; friend to my own mind; I encourage dreams
and I feed in me light
we cradle, what is to come
so let us not hold back our visions
and our kindest of dreams

“Hope”called by many names
is the true muse
–it is the bird in our hands–
a torch passed down on this long and arduous journey

our desire to light the next one
and dispel the cold nights of hate is vehement
we cradle, what is to come
Draft 1
The sun is setting, and I'm a sucker for the glimmer
shining through the leaves.

****, I love their sway so much; I try to imitate them.
Over my living room carpet, I attempt to dance in my humanly way, jiggling my thighs like a branch being shaken.

I endeavor to fill my steps with joy
as they fill theirs with the sun's felicity
because Dear I know I, too am alive.

I know I grow perhaps not taller, but deeper  
in my sense of belonging; in knowing this body is home to the infinite cavorting in a material form.

So, I bump my hips to the left and giggle; it's time loosen from the bough like my green kin –this journey is to be enjoyed when possible  
under the sun.
Ten rivers lift
and become clouds
over the ocean of my heart
Light, I am light enough to float
We jumped and dodged mops
and chairs around the house so that we could in fact deliver the antidote to our dying playmate on the other side of the house. Then upon our arrival we opened our palms to reveal the loose pills of sweetart rolls that would indeed cure the our peer’s fatal illness as they giggled, and we choose what game we would play next.
We must rise each morning and welcome that sweet sensation that we have arrived
however long it took and no matter how often we lost the trail emerging from our heart towards the world
Today we sit in our bodies and we abide
calm, strong, kind and unmoving
we reveal in our beauty and we joyfully smile at all the things that brought us here
“Yes, I see you” we whisper to the throbbing parts of us
And say, “But, this life is so much more that, that I cannot let you run the show” and we reach for what makes us warm inside, all that heals us and all that opens it arms towards us in loving gratitude we thank and embrace
we were born
the same year. we have three
white hairs near our forehead. we will
become two silver foxes,
you and I.

you ask me
if we can take the elevator
to the roof.

the cool air is irresistible.
i stare at you,
as you pull your shirt off,
over the roof top
and I proceed to pull
mine off too.

there is no difference to me,
that you are labeled as a “man” and I
as I “woman”.
I am too old for gender norms to keep a sweaty shirt over me, when I could cool
down too.

the cool air is cool.
my chest is a chest.
you and I exit the web of fiction
and emerge naked of them,
as if rescued from a sunken ship
–we inhale the air fresher
because we chose.
we chose.
Silence as you gasp and before you scream

Silence

A sigh is another place in which one can find the quiet residence of a lexicon

In complete silence women pray;
some do so in the zealous quietude of their rooms
where the silence is like a mime
sending only signs

Silence comes while the musicians wait attentively on their condutor to count them off

Silence is what we endure
when we believe we do not have a tongue


Silence

When a moment is full of beauty our mouths and minds lay cusped in that second’s ineffable existence

Silence

The great friend of fools and the great companion of the wise.

We looked at the state of our nation and there was only silence

what followed was drowned out by all the noise in a place
where there was no room for silence
silence belonged to everyone on impeachment day regardless of sides or perspectives
Holy water rising from your skin
as you scrub circularly
skin cells are dethroned
–there are no rulers here...
   ...we stand here side by side

The soft sun rising
reflects from the small containers
inside the shower caddy
the many colored creams and the one deodorant you keep lopsided
seem agreeable in size
–different shapes look good together...
   ...we stand here side by side

When you look around you notice
That the warm water that rose
liquified over the walls making it seems
as if they were sweating those little droplets
that accumulated all round the bathroom
fogging the mirrors
– the same thing takes many forms...
    ...we stand here side by side

Unraveling the trangled string of a swimsuit bra takes patience. The old wire ones were too suffocating even for something as slow breathing as a breast
two nippes hanging in the cold
await the earth of cloth you are to unravel
–present and future moving closely...
   ...we stand here side by side
We sunk into the melting ice dissolving over the Han River
changing icy thoughts to free flowing water

everything was water
clear, cleansing and clearing
We talk about our cultures and I tell them I come from very expressive and outwardly loving ones

that I am hugged and kissed on the head by my older cousins male or female
that even now immersed in a different culture
when I come to consider someone a really good friend, I want to hug them and kiss them on the cheek
that I tone myself back so much!

that I was taught to be loving and direct

That I want to dance when I hear some music! Dang! Like I really, really, really wanna groove

That I struggle with perception here
because instinctively I feel:
that to not be warm
feels like someone is intentionally
being cold: a sign of indifference

and to not be direct
is intentional disrespect :
seen as if you are wasting someone’s time on purpose by beating around the bush

that I always have to stretch myself to try and understand
that I must give up my notions of what is okay
and give up what something as simple as outward displays of affection or directness mean

It means pulling myself at the seams and seeing what remains underneath all I was taught beneath the performance dance these cultures schooled me in
their religions, their power systems, their moral codes, their values

what is underneath is truly me
just as human as any other
same same in every part of town
and in every corner of the world
wet without rain is the color of my eyes right before they get blurry
and the saline waves  cover the horizon as far as I can see

for this second everything looks expansive
the sea at night
my pupils floating like boats over the tide
reveal that if I trust my hands
the stars above will offer guidance and the will moon lift the tears off of my face

why can i not sail comfortably through this hard weather
not deny how it pulls and sometimes feels immense
When all the sorrow of the world spills over, cup your hands and try to hold it.

Even if you think it might run over,
know the earth below will hold it, too

Together you will see to it; see that these rivers that long have ran with each others blood and that are marked white deposits of salt from histories of tears serve
their deepening purpose and  nourish
the soil. That all boiling blister of hate pop
by our consciousness renewed. Growing among the dirt of yesterday, the fruit of all our mistakes will be our garden that grows flowers.
I think of all the atrocities committed by the ego fueled by the emotion of hatred and fear that in retro spect we condemn.

When I was a teenager reading about world history, I wondered how in such horrific things were done. How people could be stand with such  blatant disregard for equality and another’s humanity. How propaganda and statist  language could be used to fool people and fuel sentiments of apathy and even make massacre seem like an acceptable alternative when it never is. I watch as people go on with their daily lives with little to nothing to say about modern day genocides, and I again wonder why.

This is your time, your era,  your epoc–the baton is yours– if you have ever critiqued folks from another time and condemned those atrocities, I beg of you to open your eyes and see for yourself what this time of ours presents you with. Think for yourself. Act even if it is unpopular.

Thus,I believe there should be a ceasefire for the sake of all people involved in the Israel- Palestine conflict. I believe my country, the United States should stop funding a nation who us committed a war crime. I believe in divesting and boycotting corporation(McDonalds, Starbucks, Disney+ and others)  which are actively donating and abiding what is now a textbook genocide.

I believe I should not turn away from the horrors of the world.  And I believe all people should be free deserve a right to live especially young  children.
We are recovering
I am growing wiser
We are becoming kinder
I am every other human being
We are finally breaking the divide
You can be honest with me
We are not scared to be seen for who we are
You can make mistakes
We are falling deeper into life
and into our beating hearts
What gifts can I offer
What can I give
I want to make beauty so that it surrounds the human heart
comforts it and wills it to carry on
What can I offer, I ask again
should I draw a hand or paint a beaming ray of light
Should I sing lullabies back to the night

What questions can I ask
What statements can I make
which requests can I utter
Are
Guide me, grow me, make me forgiving and more gentle
appropriate
Do I need more reverence for life
including my own

I do not like stagnation I like rivers and how they naturally flow
I want to make beauty
I want to keep my beautiful and big heart more than I want anyone
I do not want it to shrink and when it does I want to be courageous enough to stretch it again
I want what I am as I am
and to preserve and cultivate the loveliness within me
The great thing about getting older is that you start finding out what you are and what you are not
and it does not mean you  cannot cultivate what you lack nor does it connote any amount of permanence it’s just that you can finally recognize and now start
from where you truly are
with a clear view over the land
and you just have a better sense of the territory
you have a better starting point that’s all; that’s what I like about getting older
It is good to challenge yourself
keep changing
keep reaching for your next inner-ward destination
What is inside is crucial
its fruits determine who you are
but more importantly
how deeply life is felt from the breeze
to water running over your hands, to a smile someone gives you

Can you feel the depth of these moments?
What is inside is crucial.
Dear language you hold everything in the  long expanse of your eternal unfurlment  like the cosmos always expanding

We see constellations we have named
being  pulled further apart  
How could the space among planets  feel like the space between us

we sit and look out at your star
the brightest point is still love
I had the sudden thought “...and I’m the thing he doesn’t mind losing”

It was a little tornado of thought that I quickly put inside a mason jar and placed on a wooden shelf in my living room.

I sat on the couch across from it observing it and watching it stir.

“What a thought”

How destructive it could be to let that little storm out. It could grow and it’s winds could slowly start to peel off the walls and start to take down the roof.


So, I closed my eyes, cupped my hands and I thought of your smile–warm and tender. When I opened my eyes, a seedling had grown over my left palms.

“How beautiful”

I contemplated putting it in glass encasement, to watch it from afar, but instead I decided to take it outside and plant it near the middle of my front garden.

“This is what I want to cultivate” a flourishing sprout of life; a garden of plenitude.
The glowing vase in the middle of the garden calls to us and we jump up from our  cozy spots breaking with our lower halves’ crossed legged slumber
–limbs unraveling–
picking up speed towards it as if we were  about to take off
and gusts of playfulness revitalize our endeavors
takes us and we more than willing
laugh again
our chests rising and falling in exaltation 
our breathing heavy  

the glowing vase remains far in the distance but that is not what we are really after
When I look at you, the world shifts into gear and my life begins to roll
the prospect of winter does not seem cold
and the primroses in my coastal begin to seed

When I look at him, all oceans part with a gentle willingness to love despite separation

When I look at you, I put my plans together and pray a thank you to life

When I think of him, A grateful smile
comes over my face and I understand some sacrifices are stacked like plates

When I look at you, I want to love you as much as I loved him
as deeply
as tender
as nourishing
and we are on our way

When I look at you, I know life goes on across the bend, around the corner,passed a true love and arriving at my door while in recovery
Next page