I want to honor all the lessons of my father.

Thank you for teaching me to work hard,
for it is when we put our full effort and heart into everything we do
that we reap the rewards.
~
Thank you for teaching me to be honest,
for it is when we honor our words and actions
that consequences and troubles are avoided.
~
Thank you for teaching me that I must always forgive,
for it is when we show love to those who have hurt us,
we feel whole in our hearts.
~
Thank you for always being silly,
for it is when we stay light in our hearts
that the troubles of life seem insignificant.
~
Thank you for always protecting me,
for it is when we show the utmost care and concern for others,
that they are reminded of their importance to us.
~
Thank you for showing me that
actions speak louder than words,
for it is through our actions that the truth of our heart shines through.

8/4/2016

The morning will be plagued by slow ripples from today.
The taste of regret and shame will coat my tongue,
and I won't want to look in the mirror.
I won't want to see my enemy,
and I won't want to face my conscience.
"Today will be the day,"
I will tell myself…
And I will want so badly to believe it,
but every cell in my body will remind me of
all the times those words have left my mouth
in days past,
and never followed through.
The frustration is an overwhelming cloud that is thick around my body.
I feel heavy and sedated by my own actions.
I feel weak and at a loss for control.
I am scared to be writing this because I know the power of thoughts and of words,
But I know no other way to heal than to release my life onto paper.
I can not look myself in the face and tell lies-
So although this rips me apart to put onto a page,
I must honor myself for speaking the truth,
even when it's ugly and hurts.
I will wake up tomorrow and tell myself,
"Today will be the day," because maybe,
tomorrow it really will be.
I will wake up tomorrow and brush my teeth clean of the past,
spit out regret and shame and wash it away.
I will pray for health and help and healing.
I will humbly say Thank You to the Great Spirit for my life.
I will remember the days I couldn't get out of bed,
and I will rise for those moments.
I will stand tall and look at myself in the mirror and say,
"I love you and you are beautiful," until I believe it.
I will let the tears run down my cheeks until the veins in my body feel dry,
And I won't wipe them.
I won't hide behind words that tell a story different from my own.
I will walk this road,
So give me lightening and give me rain,
that way I will learn to walk with grace and strength,
but I ask please, Great Spirit,
still let the sunshine kiss my face,
and relieve me from any pain.
Please have mercy on my soul,
and be my guiding hand
as I find my way home.

6/6/2016

Skin once torn and charred
is skin now senseless,
no longer stinging with sorry
and sorrow.
From the absence
I found presence-
it was the only way.
When the body is
a painful prison,
the mind must
manifest solace.
Must silence mom’s
anguish, and speak
for dad’s silence.
Pain is a sense
I’ve perfected-
No longer exists
when breath is focus.
From the absence,
I found presence-
it was the only way.

There's a steel cage match
in my mind
between who I am
and who I want to be.
I watch with eyes of a bystander,
watch as the conflicts of my mind
become intertwined in fragile fists.
In the dark corner roams the Contender,
resting quietly in the back of
the thoughts.
You can hear the breathing,
feel the presence,
feel like the victim
come to the territory
of the enemy.
And I know,
I know it is is me-
     the Contender in the dark corner,
     it's just like looking in a mirror.
     I see the fear and fight in her eyes,
     she means no harm,
     she's just trying to figure out how to be free.
Across the ring
glows who she wants to be.
The soul,
the light into which
her thoughts are punching holes-
     darkness destroying in confusion.
Fists hit her cheeks
as she spits up mouthfuls of words
she should have never said to herself.
She's just trying to survive
the battle of her mind,
trying to absorb the blows
the way the Light does,
so that every fist the contender
drives deep
is flooded back with light
as soon as the fist leaves.
She will not be
defeated.
The Light
will
not
leave
her.
She is greater than her contender.

The strength in which you created to bare us,
became the strength in which you need to bare us.
No book could've prepared you
for the disappointments,
the nights we don't come home,
for a hysterical rush of tears,
bullets straight into your shoulder.
Torn apart in ways more than one,
you never even saw it coming.
We are your blind spots;
the cause of constant and unspoken worry.
No longer possessing innocence,
but still demanding your blind trust.
We're sorry we never call,
and for growing up too fast.
But I promise, we're okay,
and you've done a perfect job.

I think I finally understand why you'll always love us.

i had to swallow the words
choking my throat
the first night i ever saw you cry.
luckily i had your tears
and a bottle of wine
to help wash down the knives.

i remember the way your soul died
and how your arms were child-sized.

it was the first time you told me you were
scared.

i should’ve ripped the air with
“**** yous” to God
and
“i believes” to the devil
but they’d already been ingested.

working with precision,
sterilized tools

carving scars in stomach lining,

words are hands of doctors
words are cutting through me
doctors through my Grandmother,
your Mother,

e x t r a c t i n g  the  c a n c e r

carving scars in stomach lining,

yet all the while She’s saying,
“help them” to God
and
“stay away” to the devil.

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds