Rekindling magic and wonder
Seeing the world in a different light
With a different kind of sight
A perspective turned upside down.
Creating, disassembling, learning
New ideas breaking through my shell
Sparking a revolution of improbable dreams.
Growing with self-love
Planting seeds of kindness
Loving myself unconditionally becomes my truth
Cultivating compassion for all is a continuous practice.
Rain cleaning the air and my lungs
Glittering sun breaking through storm clouds
Clearing my mind for new beginnings
Stepping forward with less weight
Moving slow with intention
Brimming with big ideas
Big ideas are coming.


11/2017, Leah Oviedo @ImpowerYou.org

Brianna 6d

It took me far too long to learn
you are far more complicated and spectacular
than magic will ever be.

Dolly munjal Nov 11

Love is like cancer..
It comes without giving any notice..
And kills u slowly slowly

Lyn-Purcell Nov 7

We learn history
We cup history
And we all strive to make history
And in history, we learn
and life seems to repeat.

~ ⚪ ~
Take a closer look
'History'
All of us learn his-story
and her-story.
So, let's do it.
And write our his-story.

Surrounded by history that life loves to repeat.
Chill Nov 3

To the guy who brings me hat cause he knows I would have forgotten  mine and its going to be hot

To the guy who teaches me how to drive and believes I can do well even when I drive off the road and almost burn the clutch

To the guy who picks flowers for me on his birthday despite a snake we just saw in the river

To the guy who says what we both want because he knows I won’t

To the guy who changes gears without taking advantage

To the guy who brings me back home on time

To the guy who boldly meets the parents and siblings because he loves a girl

To the guy who makes me laugh
To the guy who I love,respect and admire

I wish you many more years and I hope we get to spend them together
Killing bugs and mosquito
Talking openly and freely
Loving and being loved
Learning and growing
Praising and worshiping the God who brought you and I together till He calls us home

chloe fleming Oct 27

My favorite time of day is the morning before the cigarette smoke laces through my hair. Theres something so pure and innocent about the morning and the sunshine and the smell of youth. I remember when lollipop sticks stuck out of mouth and my mother would yell that I would rot out my teeth. It's funny really, now the cigarettes hang out of my mouth like candy. Innocence is so pure the way it feeds through your body till some other drug is then the innocence is lost. And that's the beginning and the end to all our problems. We lost our innocence trying to kill the pain and when I say kill the pain I really mean kill ourselves. Because no body at 15 wants to down a bottle of pills just to make it through the day then at 16 drink more liquor than water then at 17 attempt to take your life because it might actually make you fucking feel something. I tried for so long to just fucking feel something like the way I felt heartache and pain and loneliness course through my veins. I tried to ignore it, black it out, I fucking tried. I think I love the mornings the most because the way the have so much potential but still seem to come to a fucking end. They know how to end. I am still learning.

I have now since returned from a place
A place for people who cannot take care of their well being
A horrid place filled with short fuzed people
Filled with people who are terribly obsessed with suicide
Staff members are cruel and very mean
So you stay there until you are safe enough to go home
But since you are being babysitted more than helped ,
Then you must truly want it inside of your aching heart
You need to want to be alive
If not , then you will rot inside of that looney bin
Unhelped , Uncared for
Genuine grievances truly exist there
But i made it out in one piece
Earth , i realized
needs more help than anything
It is far more broken than any living organism
Abiotic creatures scream alive and grieve for earths sake
I am learning to put the pieces of my dignity , my love , my well being
Back together
And i will continue with life despite anything

nim Oct 24

You can learn to love,
But
You'll never learn how to fall in love

I pick up details.
all the details.
or as many details as possible
in the available time frame

but I can’t make connections between things.
A does not connect to B for me.
I can't zoom out and drag and drop a
line of relation from A to B.

instead I have to drag it myself.
Over kilometers of terrain and time and effort.
Most people use a cart.
But not me.
No, I don’t have a cart.
Every attempt bites away more time and effort
in getting the relationship of A to B.
It’s hard and exhausting
and I don’t have many shortcuts for this.
It’s hills and mountains for me.

Sometimes I can zoom out.
But’s it not an easy in-between zoom, like on google maps where you can see where you are on a street.
Or even which neighborhood you’re in.
If the details are the trees and the big picture is forest then,
I go from crunching on pine needles,
to a view above the clouds.

But it’s not a satellite image.
I can’t see the tall green things clustered together
that would make me think “forest”.
I just see a solid, light green polygon. It’s green so I know
it’s something to do with nature.
But I don’t know for sure.
It could be grass.
It could be a jungle, which is really close to a forest, but not quite,
and I don’t know the exact criteria
distinguishing one from the other.
No details for me here.

I know the basic shape and what it might be,
but I’m not sure of the specifics that make up this green place.
It’s to do with nature.
That’s all I got,
so that’s what I go on.

Turns out explaining a complicated developmental disorder is easier with poetry than with paragraphs. Who knew?

What I learned in school,
is what being damaged to does to you.
It teaches you struggle is a bad word
and that success is effortless
if you’re not perfect right away
you’re not right
at all
your words only have value
according to the rubric
your cries of pain are only noteworthy
when the wound blisters scarlet red
and sticks and stones are as harmless
as the air used to launch them,
never mind that they broke your spirit well before your bones
they’re just kids.

I was a kid too.
Yet you locked me behind
an iron desk for first an hour, then two,
because despite how desperately I pleaded,
you assumed that because you cared,
that meant you couldn’t hurt me.
I have no scars on my skin to
show you,
unless you count the words I never wrote
because thinking about this made me choke.

And writing about it made it real.

You don’t get a scar
when your body is convinced it can no longer draw breath,
and you learn to count to four and hold for four
before you ever open up a trig book
to page four.
I have scars because I am here to be healed,
I am here, still.

Trees that fall in forests don't scar,
but the grove where they once stood misses them.

This is how I rode my bike every day after school,
I rode it back home safely as I could.

Because I learned to shoulder my weight in gold
and understand on my own terms
that my gold standard
is the only one worth anything to me.

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