"Enjoy your own company"
Is easy advice
When it isn't the only option.

"Learn to love yourself"
Is a lot easier
When you aren't the only source.

We are social creatures
But maybe there's a reason
The most successful say they're lonely.
Maybe coming to believe
Evolution has finally grown beyond
The measly confines of needing others
Is our inevitable future.

Or maybe,
Now is just a season
To be in your own company
So the next will be so much more appreciated.

See the beauty of the flowers
Those left to the wild, to the whims of the world
Unassisted by earthly hands
How relentlessly beautiful they grow.

Hear the birds, singing proudly
Free and flying high
And remember that despite their struggles
They are taken care of, as you will be.

Are you not, at least,
As beautiful as a flower
Do you not
Have words as important as the birds
If not more so?
For you are one of Abraham's stars in the sky
You will be comforted.

Isn't it beautiful
How the most vivid colors and scenes
Can be created from
Only the black and white on a page?
Movement, harmonies, blends of hues
Described with only memories wished from a writer to you.

Why do I convince myself
I'm not alone anymore
When as soon as I believe it
I'm left behind?

It doesn't happen every day
And it's not particularly remarkable
But it's these kinds of days
That feel remarkably perfect.

The simplicity in the ordinary
Finding sparks of happiness in that in-between
Standing on edges, making something grand of what is seen:
At dusk and dawn,
There is light in both.

Oh do you know how it feels
To be the tree that falls in a wood
With no one to hear it?

Was it even there to begin with?

They say to not let things bottle up
But how do I release it with no one to listen?
Screaming into the void does nothing
When the words need somewhere to land.

Alone, it builds up
And it leaks from my heart
In comments and glances and that deep aching pain
You can't, or refuse, to see
You never ask about me.

Now that I look back, you never did.
Even when I asked about you.

So now I scream into the void
But the noise takes shape
As words on paper
And sometimes, someone listens
But even if no one does
I can pretend you'll see it.
And in my imagination
Maybe I can pretend
It helps me heal.

I don’t know how I’m going to die
but I don’t mind.
If it was sent in a letter
it’d be left unopened, and marked
return to sender.

I don’t need to know the way
the twists and turns coming ahead
the fraying and tearing of fabric
being fed into the loom

I will know only what is in front of me
and trust the enjoyment I have is enough.

Lean on the day in your hands
because it is the only one like it you will ever get to see.

Sometimes, in the corner of my eye
There is that glimmer
Threads of the Fate's tapestry
They weave their glistening strands
With gnarled knuckles, worn hands
Between clouds and in the dappling light under leaves.

I see the crimson red of fall
So barely visible, the golden spider's web
Brightening into the stark white of snow
And on and on and on -

Between time,
Between lives,
Isn't there beauty in the mystery of our futures
Known to fate
And only yet to be spun?

Like the ticking of a time bomb
Waiting for the payoff
The gift, or the stone
Gold or indigo
Weighing the scales
In your head, in your heart
The decision is already made.
Risking hope, waiting days
In time, your debts will be paid.

I am neither here nor there, in
Limbo, my next step postponed
Stranded halfway across the river
I lean down to taste the water
It is full of salt.

Forty days and forty nights
But there is no sign of rain
Or what comes after.

I wonder if I am meant to wait for the ferryman
Or if, when the tide releases me
The path I will walk
Will lead me to Hades on my own.

Would you tell me -
I know you’ll have to let go sometime,
because eventually, we all must
but would you, tell me
you won’t let me go
just so I could hear it, one time
and believe you
for now?

Take a break
but only if you've earned it.
Be kind to yourself,
but do not fall into the trap
of overdoing it.

Self-care
is only caring
until it isn't for the better good

Self-care
is no longer caring
if it hurts you more than it should.

So, go ahead, and take a break
take a day to go slow, and wait-
wait for the emotions to cease
until you breathe with ease
and know with certainty
you will be okay.

Then get up and don't let yourself be late
for that meeting, or coffee, or dinner date
because you deserve a life of love, not hate-
so continue living,
and if you're tired,
take a nap.

Being true of heart,
and pure in intention
will get you hurt,
and teach you lessons.

You must make room to accept
the freedom offered to you,
not by following fake rules
but only believing in its truth.

I go through life with pebbles in my pockets
Walking alone through the storms with my raincoat on
Sand sinks between my toes on beaches,
A cool breeze flows against my cheek under forest trees
And my jacket hangs down with the weight of rocks
In those big wide pockets at my sides.

I pull them out, hold them in my palm
Pick out a piece of seaglass to admire in the sunlight
Set aside one perfectly smooth;
I'll send it skipping on the next lake I find.

Some are beautiful,
Some come with cold dirt that reminds me exactly where it once laid,
Some are scuffed from days, years, of scrapes and hits
And I no longer remember why I picked them up at all.

But as I walk,
Across regions and eons and ranges
I keep some and toss some
Though I'm always adding more.

The memories come with me,
And day after day,
I do my best
To leave the heaviest stones in the miles behind
I try keep my pockets light.

There is art
In this catharsis

Making beauty
It's cathartic

Words and paints and splatters and strokes
Giving shape to the unknown

We hang our pieces in this vast gallery
With new halls waiting around every corner

Not to be admired, but simply to be
Here we all have our own space to believe

Sometimes I look back upon the wreckage
The boards are warping already from the salt seeping in,
The unrelenting heat of the sun
Those that are still above the surface, anyway.

There are some pieces of color -
A scrap of fabric, rope, plastic, remnants of a life
Which has been so wholly dismantled
I don't know how many times over
By the storms that came back, again and again
To make sure it hadn't missed a thing.

I am surprised I am here
Though I don't recognize where 'here' is
I continue to float, and watch, and wait
Until there is something new on the horizon

We will survive.
Shipwreck after shipwreck
Of anger, of pain, of grief, unrelenting
Unbearable
Until the waves part,
And breaths lengthen,
And you realize the sirens' call has quieted

You are safe enough, and all at once,
You can begin to swim again,
And reach out into the sea.

When we learned about redshift, years ago
A classroom full of bored teenagers waiting to graduate
I found comfort in the idea that
Nothing mattered
Every decision in my future laid so small in the palms of the universe.

A lifetime seems so bare
Featherweight
Against the stark backdrop of stars constantly shifting
As the world we know expands
Without stopping
Unending
Beyond our perception.

Some thought it morbid. Others, a source of fear -
In an ever-expanding sea, who would notice if they drowned?
In such a vast forest, who would hear the tree fall?

Instead, I thought:
I alone can make the tree grow, and whether it falls or not,
No one and nothing will interfere, no one need remember,
But me.

Relax. The Universe is expanding.

I remember how it felt
When all the pieces fit together
When I felt it couldn't be more perfect
And I could bear any weather,
And slowly, each piece was stripped away
Like a house on fire-
I watched it burn and collapse
Room by room
An inferno.
It left nothing behind
But myself, and my pride.
When it was dug out of the rubble
I glimpsed it buried from the sidewalk
The metal twisted, charred in places
But I tucked it in my pocket.
I'll keep walking down my street
(Though it isn't mine anymore)
Until I find a new town to be a part of-
Maybe a home once more.

With a clear mind,
the words flow in:

I hear a cadence like a beating drum
from my own heartbeat in my ears
disrupting the silence, or
adding to it, I can’t tell

the images, the feelings
like sand across my skin
like music in the distance, you can’t hear the lyrics
but you can tell you know the song.

Like visions in a hazy prophecy
my mind spins the whims my dreams whisper to me
and I close my eyes, and weave-
and here flows this
poem,
or maybe it’s just the quiet breeze
and all this is my mere imagining.

There is such beauty in a blank page
Waiting to be decorated,
Or marred

Black streaks dashed hurriedly
Dark and bold upon its face,

Putting shape to the emptiness
Light in the darkness,

The breaking of silence

Like running out into an open field of snow-
The vastness of the front lawn so huge
To little toddler feet
Plowing forward into the crystalline stillness
Shattering it, with sudden life
Joyful cries, wind, movement
Loud and wild life
Out of nothing, out of silence.
There is beauty, in the waiting
Of a blank page.

If I could speak to my younger self
I'd be the friend I've never had
The one I thought I did, the facade I believed

So the pain of ripping that mural off the wall
Shattered painted shards of tile all around my feet
Fingernails digging into the mortar
Bleeding jagged edges

In my mind
I'd be able to comfort myself
The way I wished you had.

Readers, writers
Are a company who finds comfort
In the worlds we build for ourselves
And for others
Seeking solace when we have no comfort left
In the world around us.

I think I am too analytical for love.
Which is contrary, startlingly so, considering
How deeply I have loved before.

I think it may be a fluke, the times I've thought I've loved
They say thinking you have something is sometimes
The same as having it: to be true,
It hurts the same once it's gone.

But maybe I am a fool,
Fooling myself in these fools errands

Searching for something I cannot allow myself to have
I am too analytical, I focus on the small things
To make excuses, and find reasons for dismissal
Simultaneously fighting for reasons
To love, and to let go
Because I'm not sure where the path goes
And the uncertainty is terrifying.

So I analyze, and pick apart
And keep it all to myself
Hoping and praying but with no end to the sentence because
I don't even know what I'm asking for.

For things to work out -
To continue? To end? To end in heartbreak, or in relief?
To last in treachery, through deceit, to lead
To peace? If I'm hopeful.

If anyone could break through my programming
Like waking a robot back to life, bringing sentience and emotion
Where it was once quiet and dark inside
I'd hope it's you.
Because there's a chance it could be, and
I've found no one else who could.
I don't even know what's there, anymore,
What could be brought to light?

Maybe you would only wake me to hurt me,
Or to use me
Maybe I should be willing to risk it to see the light at all

I am in a world I don't understand
And I am scared
But I'm willing to let you try.

What is said in the unspoken?
In shared glances
In messages deleted
In letters left in the bedside tables and
Notes left in the backs of drawers

Pens with ink that haven't been bled
And pages empty, wishing they could say
The message you think but won't put down
Or say aloud

But I can hear in the spoken pauses
The extra breath between sentences
The stutter in your words

Can you read between the lines
See behind the camera lens
Hear the chord missing from the harmony?
Are these audible pauses
Or am I the fool, listening to silence
As it speaks volumes?

I have decided to stop hating myself
because other people have told me I should.

I have done wrong, and wronged others
while trying to do right.

This does not fix the mistakes
but if I keep trying, it will fix me.

Lazy Sundays
after sleepless nights,

in a slump, though
nothing's done

the list is long, yet
we pause and slow,

letting the urgency flow
to return to our ways of comfort,

if only for a while
and let ourselves dream

just one night longer.

I miss who I used to think I was
When I loved myself
In ignorant bliss
Of my flaws, and the mistakes I had yet to make.

As I've grown older, I've come to know myself better
And I can't say if I've liked the change.
But I'm stuck here with me, for better or for worse
So we will bear the growing pains

From old me, to new me
Pretending to shift while staying the same
Fooling myself with the same name
Unable to decipher these blaming games

Who or what is responsible for how I turned out
I don't know
But I know I'm not who I thought I'd be, at twenty-three
At least I still have hope that time will make up the difference.

Why is it
That I give others the power to hurt me
So quickly
Before I'm sure they won't?

I watch myself do it,
Like when the horror movie turns towards the basement
And as they walk down the stairs
I scream for them to stop,
And yet that is simply the way the story goes.

To avoid it is to stop playing the movie altogether
And while I know what is coming
I know I need to simply let it play
To see the end at all.

How lucky you must be
Without even realizing
To have enjoyed the fruits of my labor
As I fooled myself into thinking
You really cared for me.

How lucky I thought I was
To be appreciated
As I was ignored
To be respected
As you talked behind my back
To be trusted
As you hid from me
Until the curtain finally fell
And I realized you didn't know me at all.

How many times will I fool myself
Into thinking someone cares
When they never ask.

How many times must I be judged
Without being allowed to plead my case
Until I see the jury is rigged.

How many friends must I make
How many lives will I build
On a foundation I pour
Alone.
Only to realize after the house collapsed
That I was the only one who lived there.

I'm hesitant to hope
Caution tempered by the memory of hot stovetops
Still felt in my fingertips.

But I know
From the chances I've lost,
The opportunities I've let pass me by
That the only way to live a life
Is to let the windows open up
And lean out to smell the roses -

Don't live under the weight of,
"It's the hope that kills you."
Be freed to seek new answers, let life be open-ended
Ask yourself: "Do you believe in miracles?"

I felt offended when she asked me
Even though it was the same question I had been asking myself
Back and forth in my head, for months
Because wasn’t the answer so clear?

It was startling, how potent my reaction was
I answered with my whole chest
In a way I hadn’t been able to speak in the mirror
Sometimes only being tested will reveal the answer.

If you knew me well,
You would already know:
Every word has been written
In each moment with you alone.

What if,
with the softness of the velvet belly of a falling flower petal
landing gently on a cracked windowsill
love is what is brushing your hair back from your cheek
and even
giggles
in the dark,
smiling at you even when you can't see it?

I'm waiting for certainty
Surety, that moment of stillness
When everything stops,
You can't take your eyes off them
And you just know the world is right, again.

Isn't that what they say?
Something new should feel this way
Shouldn't feel this way
Uncertain, unsteady, questioning, flustered questions
Piquing my anxiety, my mind racing
Yet my unrelenting heart still skips a beat
Tormenting, unfaithful feelings
I wish I could be sure, before I want more
But something in my head is disconnected, and it stutters my steps
I'm stuttering in my words

I don't know how to explain myself
Speaking, critiquing
Saying my own words back at me
I wish I could feel the things I'm waiting for
So I could stop waiting, and instead
Just feel.

I know I am capable of something great
If I can let myself believe it.

My biggest enemy is my own mind,
And without you, I can free it.

I am enough on my own
Without your validation.
I don't need your accolades
Or your labels,
I don't need someone to orbit

I am enough on my own
I'll put the work in by myself.
Long days and long nights,
With just my own company

And all of you can go to hell.

Talked over and
Ignored,
One word answers
With days in between

Asked for favors
Taken advantage of
My generosity
A flaw, it seems

Again and again,
A quick apology
I'm quick to forgive
But the fuse is burning

Breaking down my walls
But eroding my patience
I dismiss and defend
Because it's the role I play

Over and over,
I say it's okay.

It's okay because
I didn't need you anyway.

To my Younger Self,

I'm glad you are so happy. Remember to enjoy it, and not just in passing, but every second of it.

You should go by your first name. Not everything has to be related to work. Make friends with anyone you can, because friendships last longer than duty stations and billets.

Remember that you are bigger than what you do. You are more than who your friends are, where you live, or what you score. Souls cannot be measured.

Dream big. Dream wild. Dream with ambition and love and unrestrained hope, for "only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be."

Set your boundaries, but not your limits. Believe yourself to be free to pursue your passions, to define yourself by your highest hopes in the morning and your fears alone at night. Do not be afraid of obstacles or fights, but only of your own doubt - and then, do it anyway, and prove yourself wrong every single day.

You will lose a lot. You will feel as though you have lost everything you have ever gained, anything you've ever managed to work for, and then even more. Know you will come out the other side. Know that when you do, you will not be alone.

Rely on your own eyes to find your way, but know that when it really is too dark, those still standing at your shoulder will be there to guide you any day.

Stay forgiving. Stay kind. Stay generous. Stay hopeful. Do not let these things go, even as they leave doors open for others to hurt you.

It is worth it to get hurt to stay true to who you are. The only question is: Who do you want to be?

I'm still looking for an answer. And I'm starting to think that the searching is part of it.

I trust you.

I want to see it all, to hear it all
to take my own suffering raw,
to drink it straight
the blood of life
to rend the marrow from the bone with my teeth
to claw roots from the earth, digging in the sand
hunting down every drop the world can give me
every memory
every moment of time which ripples the surface of the water, of the ocean we swim in
inseparable yet separated
joined in the wave, alone in our own
breath, our own heart
beating beating beating
experiencing
feeling it all
apart and still a part
of everything.

I am angry.

It takes a while for me to get there,
But that doesn't mean I won't.

It took some time for me to learn to read it
The subtext between the lines,
The looks, the fake smiles
But now I can see it.

I see you for who you are
And who you were,
And I can see now
Behind your smiles
The way you see me.

I am angry
Because you lied to me.
Because you still pretend we're friends
Like you'd die for me
When you prefer my absence to my company
But didn't decide to let me know.

Instead
You found a fault you could exploit
A guilty, shameful moment, a moment I slipped
You could have forgiven
And instead you let every little thing that remained
Pour out onto me.

All of the lies got too much
The uncomfortable lack of love
So you said it was the last straw
And you will blame the desolation
On my mistakes.

But I see it now
Rereading the chapters of our history,
The moments I felt a minor mystery
Speedbumps I painted over, glittering
Because I thought that's all they were.

Now I see the signs on those old highway roads,
And that this was one exit ramp of many we've passed before
I'm glad we finally went our own ways
I'm glad I see it now, that it was you standing in the way.

It wasn't my fault.
It isn't my fault, the way that you felt, when you didn't tell me.

It wasn't my fault.
It isn't my fault, the way I was hurt by the guilt you pushed onto me.

******* for making me think it was.

Thank you for the times you built me up.

And ******* for ripping it all apart,
And for making me do it with my own hands.

I've come home / I hate it here
It looks the same / exactly as terrifying
I find it comforting / similar to a straight jacket
The stillness / it's suffocating

Hands reach for hugs / unwanted
Eyes search for meaning / we look away
Colors stream around us / they're dull, shades of gray

Why do I want to run away?

I have mended my soul
The splintering cracks
Painted them with gold
I fear will fade into brass.

I have sewn up my heart
The rough, jagged tears
With threads of silk gossamer
Becoming tattered with wear.

It should bring some solace
That it is part of the art
For these kinds of things
To keep breaking apart.

I don’t know when I stopped
Seeking destruction
Or at least,
Stopped pursuing struggle
For the sake of overcoming
And instead
Sought destruction
Within myself.

Where did the spark go
That inner steel
That piece that searched for fire
In which to be forged?

I used to burn and chip away at my flaws
Working to expel all of my impurities
But I think I got carried away
And somehow too much of myself has gone.

When did I see joy
In what now gives only
Pain
When it overwhelms
I am primed to fly
Flight before fight
As my younger self would have done

Where did she go?
I must call her back
Maybe the clanging steel will ignite a fire
She can be persuaded to warm herself beside.

I wish I could turn it off
And be happy with being alone
No longer wish for connections
Stop wanting the things that hurt me.

I am happy alone
But I would be happier if I wasn't
And seeing the empty space beside me
Has made all the difference.

It distracts from the view
Though I wish it didn't
And even if I don't look, I can hear it, in the silence
I wish I could be happier alone.

From just below the surface
Reflections of dreams and nightmares
Lay on each side of the mirror.

I wipe the fog from the window
And look through
To see myself.

My bed is cold
Even as I burrow deeper into the sheets
Waiting for spring
With the flower buds buried on the windowsill.

I can't tell if I'm asleep or awake
As I drift
The numbness, the quiet
Is peaceful.

When the sun rises
I will stir
And unearth from the soil
Blooms which have been waiting, so patiently
To show the brilliance
Hiding below the surface.

I know in my heart
I have already crossed the Rubicon
And my course is set, with no way to return
The river only flows downhill
And I am on it, for better or for worse
Come hell or high water

Even if it drags me to the depths, smothers me
My body will be taken to the mouth of the river
To the doorstep of the sea

Every morning I am made to sign
To decide again, to recommit
Allowing myself to fall
I see the ports and docks along the shore, but know
My heart is already in the sea
There is no decision
But to follow.

Even if you don't speak to me
I will still stand listening.
Even if you refuse to hear me
I will still sing.
Even as you close your eyes to every word I write
I will keep writing.
Just because you wish to erase the memory of me
I will keep my own space
If for no one else
But myself.

It's where I work
Where I play
Where I go to bed, where I wake up
Those extra five, ten pounds
I can't seem to shake, to find the strap to release
To drop it from my shoulders

I can carry it here, I can wait to get home
Where I can let the strain show in my face
When I get a chance, a moment, to be alone
But I wonder
When home is no longer a place to hide
If I'll embrace comfort over sacrifice
So I can put down the weight
And focus on my own life

What are you willing to sacrifice?
What do you want to prioritize?
It will take and take and take
And you must decide
Is this greater good worth the weight you carry?

How will it feel to reach the top of the hill
How many times will you fall, and climb back up
Before the summit was a sacrifice
Of too much?

But if you enjoy the downhill
Convince yourself into contentment
Would it be a lie? And would you wish
You had given just one day more
Because maybe, it would have been enough?

Why does hope
Sometimes feel like barbs in my heart?
Is that the doubt creeping in
Or the poison of my dreams
Slowly, finally
Starting the process of my own death?

I am neither here nor there, in
Limbo, my next step postponed
Stranded halfway across the river
I lean down to taste the water
It is full of salt.

Forty nights and forty days
But there is no sign of rain
Or what comes after.

I wonder if I am meant to wait for the ferryman
Or if, when the tide releases me
I’ll walk to Hades myself
Led, trapped
This path the only left open before me.