My soul aches to be free
as the wind that plays in my hair.
The envy inside grows greener
than the grass, for the breeze
that swims across the sea.

With every breath adventure arises;
making the sights of the ages seem
so young to the ever running wind.  
Let the sounds of the unknown west
sing in my ears too.
My soul aches to be free.

Dedicate this poem to my precious babe
Please let my hidden sorrow eventually pass.  
This short-lived memory of you will never fade
From this delicate coffin made of white glass.

Please let my hidden sorrow eventually pass
For I continue to wonder if you would look like me.
From this delicate coffin made of white glass
I see your face, his and mine is what it would be.  

For I continue to wonder if you would look like me
Would you have my eyes or would it be his you wear?
I see your face his and mine is what it would be
I am so sorry that I never gave you air.

Would you have my eyes or would it be his you wear?
This short-lived memory of you will never fade.
I am so sorry that I never gave you air.
Dedicate this poem to my precious babe.

Looking at photographs
of you and I
it all seems so long ago.
Like our life together,
was just a perfect dream in a made up place.
But we both know it was real
That it happened
and now our time
together has passed.

The real question:
is it really gone forever?

I do not know how your heart
has molded since that day of demise,
But for me, I feel like it will never beat
the same;
let alone beat for another living thing
the way it beats for you.

The pictures
that catalogue our life
only bring sorrow
and yet I still wish to look upon them,
For they bring me to a happier place.
The water wells in my eyes and
I know that it was real,
and if that love is the only thing I can account for
then I can say with full confidence
that I have lived a prosperous life.

I know the love that we shared
was a gift that can only be unwrapped
by a special few.
And even in this time of remorse
I sadly still
believe that it was
me and you.

White wall, glass window, white wall.
She stares blankly into the blue of the sky,
Though she is trapped her freedom calls.
Her eyes turn green for the birds who fly.

But the outside world is chaotic and cold.
So she sits motionless within the wall.
She will be here while she grows old.
Her mind is corrupt, thus forcing her to stall.

Her freedom will never come.
She will never hear the chipper bird call.
Sitting in solitude till her day is done.
Trapped with fear, held within the bright white wall.

2:35am. You say,
“Lets go for a drive
through the galaxy.”
Your car turns into a spacecraft
as we fly through the blackness.
You take me on a journey among the stars.
The streetlamps and stoplights
become colorful particles of our galaxy,
and the cars around us
transform into the UFO’s
we can only read about.
You show me the best-kept secrets
that our vast ocean in the sky holds,
from the eyes in envy.
Your kiss
sends me into the mysteries of black holes
and the awe of a supernova.
3:12am I whisper,
“Can we sleep upon the radiance of the moon?”
and you respond,
“Yes, and tomorrow after breakfast
I will take you to swim in the turquoise blue of the sea.”
You take me everywhere
and back again with the simplest of actions.
You do this to me…

Granny gave me moccasins
To run and play in.
She got them from the pow-wow.
They made me swift
And light on my feet.
She told me
“Remember who you are”

Granny gave me a dream catcher
For my good dreams to fly through
And the bad ones to get caught in.
She got it at the pow-wow.
It made my nightmares go away
And gave me dreams about my ancestors.
She told me
“Remember who you are”

Granny gave me a totem pole
So that I would know our seven clans.
She got it from her father.
The Ani-gatagewi keepers of our land
Ani-gilahi and Ani-waya the peace and war chiefs  
The Ani-kawi and Ani-tsiskwa earthly and spirited messengers
Ani-wodi and Ani-sahoni the creators of medicine
She told me
“Remember who you are”

Granny gave me a book
With the words of my people
And their stories.
She got it from the pow-wow.
I learned about our earth mother
And how we grew from her *****.
She told me
“Remember who you are”

Granny gave me a day
To wear my moccasins.
She took me to the pow-wow.
I saw the people from my stories
And dreams.
My people and clans.
She told me
“You are ᏣᎳᎩᎯ ᎠᏰᎵ (Cherokee)”

*The seven clans of the Cherokee tribe: Ani-gatagewi translates to Wild Potato Clan (keepers of our land), Ani-gilahi are the Long Hair Clan (peace chiefs), Ani-kawi is the Deer Clan (earthly messengers), Ani-sahoni or Blue Paint Clan (medicine for children), Ani-tsiskwa or Bird Clan (spirited messengers), Ani-waya is the Wolf Clan (war chief) , Ani-wodi Red Paint Clan (medicine).

People and bodies
Lay, stand, sit, walk
Some run.
Clamor makes
the room silent.
Chattering voices.
Muffled, scratchy intercoms.
The phones
ring, ring, bleep, bleep.
Children laugh
they cry
they scream.
Impatiently angry faces
wait for departure
from their lives at
hand.

But who are they?
Mothers, fathers, and children
of course.
Perhaps the obscurely famous,
Agents or senators,
artists and daredevils.
A solider on a two-day leave.
Models, maybe more.

And where will they go?
Some go to more stress.
Some go to say goodbye.
Some go to places unseen.
Others to love.
Others to home.
No matter where
they just want to
leave here.