I am guilty of the sin of luck.
Serendipitously born into wholeness.
My head was filled with stars,
the sun placed in my hands.
And I never wanted more.
Who decreed me the fortunate one?
What stroke of fate, what hand of God?
I am grateful.
but why should I be whole
when so many others are broken?

Life is a sea.
Strong and bittersweet.
Float while you can, sink if you must.

Treat yourself as gently as you treat others.
Forgive yourself, forgive others.
"Perfection" does not exist on this earth.
Love is never measured in numbers.

Don't keep your hands clenched to tightly,
whatever you hold tightest
is what will leave you first.
Love, to often, means letting go.

You cannot save them
All you can do is show them they are worth saving.
You cannot fix them.
All you can do is hand them the tools.

Always be the last to end an embrace.
Behind harsh words are wounded hearts,
every scar has a story.

People will hate you, they will wrong you, but
You will never regret treating someone with kindness.
We are all only human.

Think before you speak,
but remember silence is a double edged sword
do not let fear
keep you from speaking
when you hold truth behind your lips.

Don't let your memories rule you,
They are the past
and you are a creature of the future
do not dwell where you cannot live.

And remember, you are always worth more than you imagine.

The ink in my veins seems to have run dry.
Circulation problems, maybe.
My soul is desperate to write,
but the pen isn't working,
and I'm left to make blank indentations
on a scrap of tattered paper.

My Soul has fallen in love with Sorrow
they make love and call it poetry.
My Spirit thinks he has overstayed his welcome.

This is how I’ll end;
not with a bang or a bonfire,
I’ve saved an apple for the pale rider’s horse,
and will smile when he bends down from the saddle
to carry me away.

Today I want to crawl away and bleach my mind.
A balloon of Worries rises in my chest
compressing my lungs till it's hard to draw breath.
classes,tuition, taxes, fear, nothing makes sense, I don't know what to do                          
I want to crawl back into the recesses of childhood,                                    
To the smell of the house in summer, open windows, old wood,
traipse through the woods to the creek,
spend hours digging under rocks for salamanders,
When I though a quarter was a fortune,
when school was just books and friends.

Sometimes I think I just want to abandon it all,
find a sweet, simple, country boy
settle down in a tiny house,
have children, a boy and a girl.
Elias James and Elaenor Elizabeth          
I will take them down to the creek,
teach them to catch salamanders,
and crawdads without getting pinched.
Wash their muddy faces and feet
when they come in for supper.

Then I'll send them to bed, with a kiss and a story,
and my husband and I will sit on the porch,
hand in hand, staring at the stars,
talking about God and Man and all that is.

They tell me I would regret
not having a career besides that of motherhood,
but days like these sure make me think twice.

I still recall the small, delicate, boy
on the ferry to Ellis Island,
With the large dove grey eyes
I'd never seen eyes so deep.
A girl will love you for those, someday
I told him telepathically.

Up top, where the wind blew,
The steel sky greeted us, in cool Manhattan fashion.
I watched a couple lean on the lattice railing.
They reminded me of  John and Yoko.
He looked like a boy--giddy with finding
a beautiful thing in his hands,
but unsure of how to handle it.
She had him gently wrapped around her finger,
tightening the knot with every smile.

I studied two old Orthodox Jews
beards streaked with fading black, faces wrinkled,
framed by the two thick curls
and staunch black hats.
I wondered what they thought of us,
teens in our jeans, disheveled from travel,
Or if they saw us at all.

I wonder if any remember me
the way I remember them.
Probably not.
No one takes notice
of the skinny red-head in the corner.