cold, blue skies
crisp air
and sun in my eyes
breathing deeply amongst the crowd
I feel like an installation
in a hotel lobby
or a decorative vase
with dry arrangements

empty yet amused eyes
peer beyond me
while I’m duct-taped to this pedestal
nailed into a wall
the frame of a painting
sitting in a display case.

Writing poems at night
I might
Dreaming subtle dreams
I would like
Diving deep into meditation
Everyday I experience pain-bration

In my left shoulder blade
And my upper back
There is no explanation
To that.

But today I had a breakthrough
Sitting still.
Breathing,
Feeling my aliveness,
Learn to feel...

Years ago
I have made a promise
I will not feel this pain,
It might **** me,
If I'm honest.

I ignored all bad feelings
Learned dissociation
Back then, I must admit,
It was a helpful creation.

But now, in adult years,
It's hard to cry those tears,
Which were suppressed,
Because of many fears

At home
In childhood years.

the answering machine let out a beep
with a message soon following
just words stringing together sentences
phonetics, tongues branching the space
between syllables
not a voice, a sound decorated with an accent
created by a language that has taken
all of history to form

and i slept through it all

you can hear the transmission towers
around my house
buzz if you walk underneath them
electricity with somewhere to be
shoving breakfast in its mouth
and rushing out the door
to my neighbors and their 32 inch
flatscreen TV

and i slept through it all

the DVD player will keep replaying
the film if you don't unplug it
one continual loop all night long
scene after scene, cinematic sequences
following quickly in succession
without a hitch, without fault
one actor triggering the other
one domino falling upon another

crashing and burning

spiraled far into the nighttime
i woke up
to unfamiliar noises and unseen voices
people made of black and white splotches
projected from a box aflame with static
and i decided right then
a starring role in the world wasn't for me
falling back into sleep

the movie continued on forever
and i slept through it all

who would've thought that I'd make it to 22
that my fire never extinguished after all those years of rain
my seven-year-old self would be glad to see she was preserved

who would've thought that the one I dreamed about for six years
now sleeps in my bed at night, and calls me his wife
my 11-year-old-self would never believe it

who would've thought that, somewhere along the line,
I made friends who care for me and I them
my 13-year-old self would be relieved

who would've thought that my heart became soft again
and I learned to let myself cry, and feel
my 15-year-old self might just smile

who would've thought that I made it out of my hometown,
traveled the world on my own, and decided to come back
my 18-year-old self would be astounded

who would've thought that I became a teacher
and I don't fear my calling anymore
my 19-year-old self would laugh in disbelief

who would've thought that, despite all the years of isolation,
dissociation, fear, and heartache, I emerged still me

who would've thought?

not me