I have these moments of epiphany.
It is while I watch myself
Wake up and not kiss the soil.

The days I don’t remember
What color the sky was
Or how I treated my mother.

Each time I fly and I realize
There is nothing more breathtaking
Then seeing her from above.

Powerful, Resilient, Art, Oppressed, Female.
That is why I fall in love with the Earth,
She reminds me of all the women I’ve ever loved
That I do not deserve.

By now you know I’ve moved on from your ways;
Eaten by your cruelty, my soul is gone;
A tear is shed by many night and day;
The extent that you’ve hurt us is far too long.

A flame holds it’s wick when a strong wind blows;
Just air it holds onto to feed its life;
Of all things here, it’s the only thing that glows;
Some are burned by the flame, pain like a knife.

However, it’s gone eventually.
Give or take time, when the wax does melt,
Races are then finished essentially,
A pain you inflict but have never felt.

Can I ask you this while you’re still around?
Enter here, I’ll make sure you’re never found.

I have a stack of vinyls on my dresser.
Some of which I'll never listened to.
Because I thought I should buy
"Greatest Christmas Hits" for five dollars plus tax.

I have a stack perfume samples in my bottom drawer.
I rip them out from magazines,
Shut them in the darkness
Until they lose their scent.

I've always had a thing for stacks.
The way books look stacked on one another.
The way clothes stack up on my bedroom floor.
The way your freckles are stars stacked on your nose.

Last week I went to a bookstore.
It reeked of musk with shelves painted in titles of books
I will never read.
I walked, looking at most but touching one.

When I am with you,
I can't help but reaching for you
Because your skin is braille in the only
Book I picked out of the stacks.

When I am inside writing,
all I can think about is how I should be outside living.

When I am outside living,
all I can do is notice all there is to write about.

When I read about love, I think I should be out loving.
When I love, I think I need to read more.

I am stumbling in pursuit of grace,
I hunt patience with a vengeance.

On the mornings when my brother’s tired muscles
held to the pillow, my father used to tell him,

For every moment you aren’t playing basketball,
someone else is on the court practicing.

I spend most of my time wondering
if I should be somewhere else.

So I have learned to shape the words thank you
with my first breath each morning, my last breath every night.

When the last breath comes, at least I will know I was thankful
for all the places I was so sure I was not supposed to be.

All those places I made it to,
all the loves I held, all the words I wrote.
And even if it is just for one moment,
I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.

the moon is hiding in
her hair.
The
lily
of heaven
full of all dreams,
draws down.

cover her briefness in singing
close her with the intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her,

Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s

pearls singly-whispering.

A single seed is buried beneath the soil.
Nurtured by its home.
It grows from a dot
To an arm reaching for the sky.

The apples dangle by a thread.
Some fall to the ground and serve as dinner to deer.
Some are ripped from their suspension by
Human hands for a snack.

Selflessness. To give gifts with
Receiving nothing in return.
Take opportunities
And make something out of them.