I am staring
At the same sky
I was staring at last year,
Listening to the same birds
I was listening to last year
Waiting for the same sunset
As I wait for this year

But the difference is
Everything seemed so empty
Last year
Because I didn't know you

I am trapped in a crystal lattice
Of my own emotions-
The prickling reality
Of my anxious thoughts
Are keeping me from moving,
Breathing and knowing truth-
If only pure consciousness
Could dissolve
Such tortuous bonds,
I would  know freedom from myself
Once more

I see beauty
In the ordinary;
To me
Perfection
Was watching him eat
Leftover birthday cake
On the couch
One Saturday morning.

I fell in love with him,
Not after some grand gesture,
But while watching him
Sing High School Musical songs
While he cooked breakfast.

They told me
It was as if
Life loved me;

But I told them
That life is an unfaithful lover;
It only cares for you
When you are at your happiest
And seems to put you down
At your worst.

The secret
Is to love life
Even through the times
When the love seems unrequited.

I love you more
than all the other people I love
put together.
And that is a lot of love.

I am supposed
to be doing my math homework

which currently lies
buried beneath
countless pages of poetry

because no algorithm can solve
the meaning of life

and no geometry proof
can prove love.

Happiness
is the ability
to marvel
at human individuality,

but what most people
don't see
is that by trying
to be what we are not,

we are denying
someone that
happiness.

Mom
You never gave me approval to water my roots with;
And it’s been two years and you wonder why
This plant is dying.

You handed me your love
But it was always on a silver tray,
Cold and at arms length
Where I could never reach it

Mother give me love
In my hand
So that I can feel it
Hold it
And Know how to distinguish its textures from others
(Mom I am giving my love to men who will never give it back to me
because I know not the texture of love)

Mother give me love in my hand
like fistful of raw earth
it does not have to be beautiful I promise
but it will be pure and true
and I’ll love you for it

mother give me love
so that we can nourish this relationship again
I miss the flowers that blossomed from these soils

Mother give me love please
So I can mould it into my hands
So that I may know
What self-love looks like

If you do not feel,
at least once a day,
as if you are living alone
in a small immaculate bubble
where the outside world doesn't matter,
snuggled up with a book,
or curling the grass between your toes
then
you are not doing it right.

I know my garden of peace
Will not grow overnight;
Like any fruit worth eating
I will wait for my manifestations
To blossom and ripen
Before I can live them.
But as of today
I vow to plant my seeds of intention,
Water them every day
And to remove any weeds of doubt
That may creep up on me.

Come rain or shine
I await all nourishment for my garden
With open arms

In these walls of skin and bone
I house a sacred soul
An inquisitive mind
And noble conscience
I feed it daily with nurturing thoughts
I tend to its needs like a caring mother
I have built these walls on a strong foundation
But painted it in soft shades of self love

I have built a home that I love coming back to;
A shelter when storms are brewing
A place I never grow tired of
Yet A place that could still use touch ups every day

And after years of building and refining-
I think I’d like to welcome you in.

My woman,
Take back your strength,
For it is not something
You have to discover,
But something
You have always been entitled to.

My woman,
You once housed all power,
So take back your strength.

You tell me
You've been doubting
Whether I'm in love with you,
And I'm afraid my answer
Isn't as easy as
"one, two.."

One divided by two
Always equals a half,
Right?
Teachers told us that
"If Sally cuts an orange
In half
She's left
With two equal halves
Of a whole."

But love
Doesn't work
That way-
Comparing love and oranges
Is like comparing
Apples and pears,
if you will.
I bet Sally never tried
To cut a  heart in two?

Another wise teacher
Once told me
That between two people
"One always loves the other more"

But isn't it
odd
How love is never
even?

And the child inside me,
That still sees the good
In the world,
Refuses to believe
That cupid only carries around
Half as many arrows
As there are lovers.

And it's just not fair
That you
Know the value of
x
That I've been trying
to solve
Since my heart
was last broken.
Boy, you could be my answer-
I just haven't figured out the question.

It's all just a numbers game-
messing with my mind-
So for now
I'll just count my blessings
while trying to make things add up:

You see,
You take my love

Add 2000km,
7 months
and a 1000 stories
We'll have to tell each other-

and at the end of the equation,
my love is still the common factor.

I left my arms open for you
When you needed a friend,

I left my heart open for you,
When you needed love
(but didn't give it in return)

But now,
Two years later,
I refuse to leave my mind open
For you to walk through my thoughts
As you please.

Our lives are about meeting people;
Some of whom are similar to us,
And others who are different
In almost every way.

We fall in love
With parts of these people,
And we wish we'd forget
Some parts of others;

But each fragment
Of each person
Teaches us something about ourselves.

And slowly,
Subtly
And poignantly;
We begin to understand ourselves
Through others.

I’m craving
A hot summer day,
A scorching nape-of-the-neck
Kind of day,
Soothed by chlorine-blue waters.
An anxiously hot toes on pool tiles
Kind of day,
Where my inner child can play

My mother treats sick people for a living;
very sick people with cancer.

She is the strongest person I know;
my rock in stroms of tears and heartbreak.

One day I heard her sobbing in her room
when she thought no one was listening:

A 14 year old boy had died in her care,
and I watched as she drowned in her own helplessness.

So I said nothing and wrapped my arms around my sobbing mother
and let her be a child for once
in the arms of her own daughter.

I write you into my poems at midnight
So that I never forget you;
I write you into my prayers at midnight
So that you never forget me.

I’m terrified
Of loving more;
So I never
Take the tag
Off my relationships
In case
I have to return them.
As if love was a possession.

Presence is a form of prayer;
Instead of praying that all will be well,
Know that all is well;
Instead of praying that the future will bring happiness,
Know that there is happiness now.
Instead of praying for perfection;
Know that right now everything is in place.

Presence is a form of prayer;
Know within you that this moment
Is carved by the divine.

I didn't know
I was your puppet
On a string:

You tossed me
Turned me
Made me swoon
To your every word.

I didn't know
I was your puppet
Until you cut
The strings,
And I fell face-down
Into what I thought
Was love.

There is nothing like
A crisp morning
To remind you
That even after
The darkest night,
There is rebirth.

I'd like to
Write a poem about you;

It's the first I've written in months-

But I don't know where to start;

Perhaps I'll start
With how I melted
When I lay on your chest
And listened to your soul-

Perhaps I'll  start
With how you remind me
Of a love I once lost.

I am forever perplexed
By the idea that
I have only ever
Seen myself in mirrors.

Do I perceive myself
As others do?
Or have I created
An illusion of myself
All these years?

Men push yet
We rise
Men push and press yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear, scrape yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear, scrape, drag yet
We rise
Their hard clay armour will crack
Around our lush roots and
We will rise

We took different paths and
I’m exhausted from trying to find
Some trace of you
In my thoughts
And in my dreams
But at least
I’m not running from myself
Anymore

A woman bows her head
And says grace,
Thanking God for the food before her;

A homeless man outside bends over
And smokes a cigarette
With the waiter,
Thanking him for his company.

I think God
Is a relative concept,
Depending on who you're speaking to.

They tell me
Something about me is glowing
These days:
They want to know
If I'm working hard
To polish myself
So the world can see my shine,
Or if the light comes from within?

It's neither;
I tell them.
It's so easy being happy
When you're a mirror
Reflecting the glimmering
Beauty of our world.
You just first have to see it.

Sometimes
It's nice to let
The silence of life
Trickle in through
Your ears

Sink your teeth
Into my lips;
I am your bread and butter
Smeared with strawberry jam;
Your favourite childhood treat
When it was permitted,
Or when you could find a way
To reach the top shelf.

I’ve always been a bad sleeper;
In fact
When I was a little girl
And I’d finally had enough
Of wrestling thoughts
and sticky sheets,
I’d tiptoe across quiet hallways
With sleepless eyes
To find solace in another couch or bed,
As if heartbreak
could be left behind
Like tear drops on pillows.

-LMJ.

I have insomnia
Because when the rest
Of the world is quiet,
I can hear myself think.

And with the image
Of you on my mind,
I looked up to the sky
And snow began to fall;
A snowflake
For every time
I thought of you

Maybe the world doesn't spin,
And it is the people
Who are constantly moving,
Trying to find something
They are still unsure of.

Be still and it shall come.

Don’t forget
To tell stories-
You’ll live through the joy
Twice;
Once in the moment
And again when you share them;
Tell them just as they happened
So you can experience the raw happiness once again

Don’t forget to tell stories-
You’ll process the pain
Every time you work through
What you thought
you could never face again;
Tell them in whatever way
Feels most gentle to you,
And rest easy
knowing that you are now in control.

Tell the ones you keep floating on the surface
Always ready to be grabbed and told
And tell the ones you’ve been clasping
Deeply in your fists for years.

Tell them for yourself
Or for others to know
That they are not alone-
But whatever you do
Don’t forget to tell stories.

My affect mirrors the sky;
My mood the sunlight-

With rays of warmth
Dancing  between dust particles
How can I help but feel happy?
With the sun actively
Tracing its way down my skin,
There is no way I can feel alone

He told me
I was like a sunflower:
and I'm rather touched
that he didn't compare
me to a rose,
deceptive in its beauty,
but rather a flower
that constantly
follows the path
of the sun.

I've always had
A special connection
With writing;
I've never actively
Had to search for
The right words,
They've always just
Come to me
Like bees drawn to nectar,
To produce the sweetest honey

To be a child
is to see,
within a plastic bead,
the beauty of a pearl.

This majestic creature glides
As she takes to the skies.
Her mind works with an eagle’s ability,
While her heart is crafted with a sparrow’s humility.

She flies not with an eagle’s pride
For her hopes are not to own the sky;
But to share it with her accompaniers
Flying never in front but alongside her peers.

She sings not with a sparrow’s naivety:
Each day unbothered and indifferently,
For the purpose of this altruist’s life
Is to serve others through sacrifice.

Although she is fearless in her flight,
She does not soar far out of sight.
She stays close to the ground, not in fear of the skies,
But in awe of the water above which she flies.

And as she departs beyond the river bend,
Her wings command the day to end.
This Blue Crane floats away effortlessly
As the sun takes a bow into the depths of the sea.

I’m confronted with the edge
Once again
For the umpteenth time
Since we last saw one another.  
The edge is so close;
The waves below
Offer to swallow me and my sadness.

Do I accept their offer,
And be granted immediate relief?
Or do I take a few steps back,
Carrying my load
Of iron and lead filled pain;
The same pain that will help me sink to the bottom of your depths.

My mind is telling me
That stepping over the edge
Will not end my pain
But will only make it worse,
But every fiber of my addiction to you
Beckons me forward

For a moment,
Instead of looking down
At you as my only option,
I look up to the sky I’d forgotten was above me
It’s vastness reminds me
That even though the idea of you was like the ocean,
The sky is even greater,
As it contains both you and me alike
And I let the tides beat ceaselessly along
Behind me

I've started to think
That the answers are
At the end of the bottle-
The end of the box of tissues-
The end of your lingering kiss-
But because there are no ends
There will never be any answers,
Except maybe at the end of my pen's ink.

All I want
is for you
to notice something
beautiful about me:

Whether it be
a freckle
on my neck,

the white line
on my nose
after I smile,

or the way
I string a bunch
of words together
in a poem.

There is still so much to see;
do not feel blinded.
There is still so much to do;
do not say you're bored.
There are still so many strangers to meet;
do not feel alone.
There are still so many choices to make;
do not feel trapped.
There is still so much to feel;
do not feel sad.

There are still so many places to go;
do not stop now.

Life flows in an endless stream of moments;
Like a river it has always trickled on with ease.
But for while, an obstacle has been in its path;
Sending streams of fate into parallel universes.
Soon when the path is clear once more
The stream of movement will continue;
This time, as a force to be reckoned with.

As I sit
On a deck chair
In the sun
Outside my childhood home
And let the sun
Leave its mark of beauty
On my skin,
My thoughts flow
Like poetry
And I am happy once again.

I can hear
The delicate chirp
Of birds
And wonder whether
They're saying:
"You should've done this
A long time ago."

And the sun
Kept shining down
In waves,
Warming my skin
With its brilliant glow
And then suddenly
Disappearing behind a cloud
Only to leave
My body aching
For its warmth.

Sometimes I wish
The sun would go away
Instead of coaxing me
Into believing it would stay.

Sometimes I think
The sun is you

If you can love this mess
This hot, sticky mess
That listens to Noah Kahan
And still cries
Even though I’ve heard these words
Over
And
Over,
Tell me yours
Once again
So I can fall in love with you-
If you can
Fall in love with this mess

My favorite thing to do
When I miss you
Is to climb to the top
Of my roof at sunset
Where we used to sit
And be engulfed in the beauty of
The never ending sky;

And just as your favorite song
Begins to play
And the scent of you lingers
In the air,
For a brief moment
The sky turns a mixture
Of the most beautiful pink and orange
Which then suddenly disappears.

And it is almost
As if the sky is telling me
That all beauty is ephemeral.

If the purpose of life is to make art;
I suppose,
All true artists go insane
Baring the entirety of life
On their shoulders.