I give myself a cheery wave,
I deserve a good start at least.
This time is more confident, knowing, loved.

This time
The reflection stays and basks
in the warmth of the love reflected.
The smile is calm, accepting and comfortable.

What once was a shell
has cascaded as it rolled down the hill
gained momentum,
picking things up along the way,
gaining speed and ******* soaring.

Shell no longer, my bounty is full
and I couldn't be more grateful.
My insides are starting to match
my expectations of my outsides again
which feels good.
More than that--I feel like myself.

Heya friend!
I call to my reflection.
Her eyes crinkle and she smiles
throwing the peace sign,
Then she gives me a serious look
and points to our heart
and mouths:

"Protect It,
But Don't Waste Your Potential.
Go Love. Be Loved. Be Love."

She turns to go,
But over her shoulder she turns
and says:

"By the way, I'm proud of you.
I'm proud to reflect who you have become.
You deserve all the happiness life can bring
and all the sadness that sharpens the joy.
Now the goal is to experience everything,
Take it all in,
Don't take any of it for granted
and worship life.
Love and worship really living."

My reflection doesn't leave me,
Even when things are rough these days,
I have learned a lot in days numbered, years, decades,
I can't reclaim my youth
but I can avoid its mistakes for my own sake.

This world is scary enough right now,
People sowing the hatred that snuffs out light
That breaks the glass of shops and places of prayer
and homes of people
who just want to be able to live their best lives,
my hopes for the future dwindle low
but my candle still burns,
and with a thousand candles
and two thousand feet
and ten thousand fingers raised
maybe someone will see
maybe it will cause change?

What will it take?
I hope violence isn't the answer.
I have a family to raise.
A life to live.
In the community I want to make friends in.
I don't want this,
But I have to be a good example
To the generations who come and will
Need. Good. Examples.

I feed my reflection positivity now.
I feed my reflection ferocity and the willingness to speak up.
I feed my reflection hope with motivation to enact change.
I feed my reflection the willingness to accept flaws.
I feed my reflection patience to understand others' perspectives.

A few things have changed though.
We hardened up a little bit.
Around the block a little bit.
I don't put up with narcissist *******,
I handle myself with decorum but push me
and I bite back,
Verbally. Don't talk to me
as if you already know me

I have friends and you friend
are not a friend so go back to
Your friends, this conversation
Is at an end.

What feminine people go through
while you can come out stronger,
it takes a lot of tumbling to get that
gem nice and shiny.

Starting a new chapter,
Me.
I think we've made good choices so far
that lead us here.
There are some weird bumps ahead,
But I think with the support of partners
and loves and lovers and friends
We will help each other get through this
Fighting when we have to,
Leaning on each other,
And never forgetting what we're fighting for.

I heard you went to Harvard
So you must be pretty smart-

The book-kind of smart anyway.

I can tell you that I never saw it coming—

That post-it-note break-up
placed on our bed
for me to find
after years of looking after you.

I’m not bitter though.
Actually wanted to thank you-

For sparing me the endless stream of dull conversations I’m certain you still have about books you’ve read and of theoretical science.


Because of you, I got to write my own new adventure to faraway lands, dirt in my hands and camel bells made out of tortoise shells clanging in the desert.

So thank you for being smart enough to set me free with your post-it note.

frozen still in silver secretion
forever perceived in a million
concepts; a story engrained, and
it goes...

I lose myself in spectral alternatives
Of an uncertain and nonexistent future.
Tormented by inconsistent thoughts,
By inconsistent perspectives
And in the countless possibilities of the horizon.

A feeling that accelerates the chest,
At times paralyzing and tormenting,
Moving in disharmonious rhythms,
Expelling an unmeasured air
From a gasping breath.

I cling to the present
That runs and does not forgive,
Thrives and insists,
Being the only one that resists,
To the past and to the future.

What do I do now? I don't even want to think about it, think about
How my life is splitting apart at the seams and all of my panicked
Outcries are doing nothing to stop it.

Amazing, I think, that I've lasted as long as I have.
Maybe this is for the better?

I tell myself, but it tastes like a lie in my mouth.

If I cease to be Caligula, what do I have left
For myself. I am nothing, nothing!

Nobody truly understands that I am losing everything and am
Out of my mind with pain and fury. I can't stop
Thinking, why me? Why is it always me?

Can't I have good luck just one time? I'm not
Asking for much. I'm scared, no, terrified that my
Life is ending quicker than I ever anticipated. I wanted to die
Grandly, in a wild blaze of glory. Not with my whole life
Upturned, sinking slowly, suffering wildly,
Losing what I worked so hard to achieve,
And wishing I could go back and be great one more time.

i never believed i could fly...
yet, the other day,
i found myself 30,000 ft in the air -
yet again -
having a hard time believing
the captain’s reassuring words.

i was stopped thrice by security;
there was so much metal on me,
you could taste it in the air around me.
i could swear the metal detector had
picked up on my insecurity -
as it swiftly brushed against a drop of
sweat at my temple.
the ‘beeps’ might as well’ve been
swear words,
censored.

having already had two hits of the ‘good stuff’
before leaving for the port,
to say i was paranoid would be an understatement.  
‘what if the machine picks up
traces of substance off my sweat?!!’
yep - i did think so.
‘twas bad.

already late for boarding,
i managed to find myself at the gate,
and into the aircraft,
at the indifferent pace of the final announcement.
the air hostess peddled a magazine my way:
i accepted it -  
read it;
then closed it;
it had no substance.

i could feel the turbulence getting louder;
in my head, that is;
there was a pressure difference,
that didn’t feel any different:
‘twas just something that had to be dealt with;
so i split the difference -
i held my breath,
and it let loose - my dread.

the branded seats featured a slogan
from a recent ad campaign by the airline
celebrating its 18th anniversary -
‘how time flies’, it read;
‘clever…’, i thought -
then turned a sour eye to the window,  
having not written it myself.

i saw the setting sun, past the surging clouds -
flares galloping across their shifting terrain
like little kids on a merry-go-round
chasing each other -
too young to realize
it was never meant to be a race.  
i couldn’t help but chuckle
at that radiant sincerity.

for all intents and purposes,
‘twas was a golden hour;
fifty five minutes,
to be precise.