Today it became crystal clear why no one has ever wanted me
I drag so much bagage
and am constantly followed
by demons I gave birth to

In fact some would say
It's a good common sense
to stay as far away from me as possible
Yes, maybe my fingers have the potential to do magic in the light or in the dark, doesn't matter if you are the right one
But is that all you are looking for?
Because, for once I'd rather be the full course than the cold leftover

I am
born on the prairie, stark clad
blue sky desert, blacktop desert, canola yellow desert
small in the great space
between us

I am
born of the mountains, wrapped
in forest standing strong-faced and tall, my
companions, rooted
my teachers

I am
born of beloved lands lost
many times over so faith becomes place
and we drift—
spirits uprooted

I am
born into the laws of my fathers, solemn
like their God, and righteous
holding fast to the book of their fathers
unyielding

I am
born of old world order imposed
on new world freedom—
the image shifts
and I blur

I am
born of the rhythm of my mothers
of life-force and flutter
small hands and steaming pots in hot kitchens
my church

I am
born of bleached fluorescent flicker
drawn into her whirling hurry
longing for rainfall and
idle play

I am
born of ghosts and tiny monsters
adrift in the hollow that bears their aching past
and tangled present
alien

I am
born of memory, my fingers carry secrets
daughter of the many mothers before me, their lives
tell the story
of mine

I am
born of the unknown, a swell in the stream
that spills into the ocean, I am
mother of many daughters
to come

...tell me who you are

World's greatest

Show me home in your eyes of fire
while still setting me free
to cross those bridges
I may burn.
Allow what we have to rest
in quiet happiness
of all the unknown ways
we can learn.

Exhale above me with lips
with no selfishness
and an intimacy I can see
without searching.  
Exhaust my inner urges
with your ink and paper
while I soar within
my yearning.

Pen me poetry that cries out
to be the lyrics,
all the pieces of my heart
learn how to sing.
Turn the key to the lock
of beautiful phrases,
draw me a fine portrait with
your word strings.

Set the controls
for the heart of the Sun (Pink Floyd)

open the sky
with your knife

spill her protection out into space
here comes the Sun

bearing your death
on course suicidal Mankind

set the controls
to the heart of the Sun.

Every word is not
expressed in a precise way,
learn to navigate to each
verse and comprehend.

Poetry is not a roller coaster,
dilate your heart and you'll feel,
each sentiment is not just written
but hidden in mystery.