Being what the heart finds its solace in
Even though the others oppose
hating the world
But finally started knowing to love myself
Understood that its okay to fall again and again
to strive for what I love
because that's how I'll reach my destination

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

I woke from the deepest of daydreams,
my eyes focusing after being long glazed over.

It’s late in the afternoon-- the light pours through the window—
it draws across above my left shoulder.  

The tea kettle whistles
like a freight train in the background.

She’s in the kitchen, but I can easily see
her veiny hands dropping the Earl Grey tea ball
into the scolding water.

—her hands, like old softly crumpled white paper.  

The same routine, every day since
great granddad passed in 1961.

Rock forward, rock backward.

What time could it be? Was I out for long?
Fresh cut grass, the familiar smell of lawn and moth ball
I so readily identify with this old Victorian house built by my family.

Evermore, the scent of kerosene dances
with the freshness of bologna and tomato sandwiches
on lightly toasted pumpernickel bread.

Where’s that 1000 piece puzzle with kittens in a basket?
Long gone?

I guess it’s been over a decade since me and my sister
last conquered that puzzle and strategically placed
connected and sectioned chunks  
back in the box for easy assemblage on future rainy days.

Rock forward, rock backward.

Her first step from kitchen tile to wood planks
sets off a chain reaction of creeks and moans
that only wood of this age and wear can produce.  

She enters the sitting room, puts the tea tray atop
the white baby grand piano: “tea time, honey,”
she whispers with a crooked smile and sad eyes.

Rock forward, rock backward.

The person on earth
I share the most
Genetic makeup
And history with

Always supportive
Of me

Without question

How blessed I am.

I’m not sure sisters like
This just come around

What’s more:
For the most part she was ok
With letting me steal her
Barbies and blue
Tutu

She’s had problems with
Her wrist since
She fell on the playground in
Elementary School and broke it

Like all her childhood possessions,
I was jealous of her
Cast
Neon green and signed

I was living with my
Mom at J.M.'s house
When we were unloading
Groceries from the back
Of his grey truck

The competitive *******
I was, I pushed her while she was bringing
Heavy bags of groceries down
Off of the truck’s bed

She fell back on her ***
And braced her fall with
Her hands

Shooting pain right through
Her bad wrist

She grit her teeth and
Carried the groceries
In behind me crying
Because she couldn’t
Handle the pain

[I’m sure I would have
thrown the plastic food-filled
bags to the asphalt and started
screaming at me]

Those tears

This moment

I would take back
For anything

A lover asked his beloved,
Do you love yourself more
than you love me?



The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.



I’ve disappeared from myself
and my attributes.
I am present only for you.



I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.



I have lost all my strength,
but from your power
I am able.



If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.