My Happiness
is not
dependent upon
your approval
or availability
or if you don't like
what you see

My happiness
is not through
a job
friendship,
a marriage
or a child.
My own life is
worthwhile

My happiness
is not based
on my weight
my face
and my *******
or if I ace
all my tests

My happiness
is liking myself
as I am
and doing the best
that I can
Being grateful
for what I have
Not walking in
other people's shadows
but shining my own
special light
and doing what
I think is right
Standing up for myself
even if
that goes against
everyone else

in the mountain. Take a step and
ascend. Place faith in yourself
and plan your next direction. Pause
and rest, to get your bearings. Success

is in all the little steps. Glimpse
at the summit. But set your eyes
on the path ahead. When you’re
in the middle of the climb,

a quick look up and not behind
reminds you of the prize. It's where
your future lies. Take a deep breath of
the cool, clean mountain air. It’s crisp

as maple bacon and will move
you through the blinding glare. The next
foothold is only inches away. But you
will not find if you stray.

on the rocks
with a salty rim like a cocktail
paired with lox, in a room smoky
and dim. Shaken like maracas,

red painted wood. In this
mystery the music's where I
stood. I was shaken down
like a mercury thermometer. I

had a fever.  It burnt
like firewood. I was shaken
like a finger pointed right at me,
piercing through my dreamy

reverie. Shaken like a baby
that's been screaming all day
long. Bleeding in the brain.  I go out
into that dark, thick night like a high-speed train.

called a thin slit
fastened over
a shiny round golden
metal. And there

I sit stitched in line
by cotton thread
colored red, so I
don't fray. Hidden

away from everyone,
but holding it all together
to make it fit. The buttery
disc is taking center

stage when we're
engaged. But when
the sun becomes undone
we lay across from

one another,
brothers of the same
cloth. He's the meat and
I the broth.

holds locks of curly
chestnut brown hair, and
the tiny knit socks that he
used to wear. There's a fuzzy

blue blanket with cottontail
rabbits hopping in the tall
grass. Topping that is Green
Eggs and Ham resting on

the musical lamb. The stuffed
teddy bear with one arm
missing is kissing Thomas the
tank engine. And the piggy

bank swallowed the copper
penny that christened
it, along with the red fleece hat
and mitts. A striped giraffe

bib is tucked in the corner
still decorated with the plum
and grape stain that didn’t wash
out, right under his name. A cardboard

box sits buried in my closet. Was it
just yesterday that thirty years
slipped away.

a soapy crystal bubble
growing cramped under
his calloused foot. He flattens
me, as I stay

put. Walking around
with a grimace he limits
my breathing space
placing a gauze pad over

my face. Leaking like a water
balloon soaking his shoes
from room to room. Flapping
my hanging skin like a

hummingbird's wings. For years
I held it all in like a rain cloud. But I
rounded sitting heavy. Wind and eddy
shed my pearl drops slow and steady.

tangled in the trees. Following
a breeze she let herself go far
as the string on her end let
her. Wetter than the grass in spring

she flew before she budded
wings. Now the diamond with
a tail has no ocean for her to
sail. High in the tree like a grackle,

strung by a nylon shackle
she flops. Branches cutting holes
as she drops in her blue and red
cloth. Swinging by a limb among

the green. Many wanted to fly
her. But now she's hung like a worn
out tire tied to the tree. And the leaves
left her bare as snow covered her tears.