I am the swirls in the steam above your tea cup, the whisper of wind in the tops of trees; I am that high and light laugh that you can never find the source of, that soft tap of feet that always follows you; I am always there but never tangible, always just beyond where your eyes can see even when they look right at me; I hide in plain sight, even when I shout it is a whisper; I am stuck between two worlds, always where you are, and yet a million miles away.

Booming voices, and broken glass
Tuesday at 2am, Thursday at 4pm
Hysteric laughter, backwards ball caps
Scribbled writing that doesn’t even make sense
Birds trying to fly but falling instead
Headlights piercing through the foggy darkness of dawn
The realization that entropy is unavoidable
Ash grey, lavender, forest green, misty rose pink
I am struggling and haven’t yet found my kitchen sink
A piano slightly out of tune, papers falling to the floor
Glazed over eyes, cracks in the sidewalk, all of this what for?
Steaming cups of black coffee, met with desiring needs
Full moons and unanswered questions
All of these, I happen to be.
The power of silence, the power of identity
Thunderstorms, moments of chaos perfectly intertwined with the silence,
Unmade beds, messy hair that falls into your eyes.
The ever-moving cold gray skies and beauty of the sunrise
Out of place tiles on bitterly cold linoleum floors
I am not perfection, in any way, shape, or form.
I fall from grace routinely, my bones ache and tremble
And when I fall apart, it takes me a while to reassemble.
Like gunshots muffled by the noise of the city blocks
I am not perfect, nothing special ever happens.
I am broken, I am misplaced and unwanted passion.
I am the raw energy that shoots from my fingertips
The tumbling words that constantly fall from my lips
That I cannot, nor would I want to control.
Galaxies and constellations grow in my soul.
I am, nothing more, than all that I have listed.
I am mistakes, dark times, unnoticed and forgotten moments.
But I am also a smile after a long cry, (don’t worry) your identity has not been stolen.

If there is a God
I'll live how I want
Some last hour confession
Won't change who I am

No one got anywhere
By doing things half way

I am still the same person
under the breakdowns,
                              makeups
   and everything in between.

I want the be soft edges melted down from the broken mirrors of my hallowed halls
I want to be whisper touches and gentle words
I want my smile to be bright,
never faltering,
and always knowing
When the world is loud and the wind is howling out of control I want to be the quiet
I don't want to fill the space with what I want you to see but with what I am

But what I am is sharp teeth and prickly points with an ooey gooey center
Words leave me feeling frozen when they slice through my warmest sweaters
My knees click and clank together, faltering through every step like my legs are stone and the street, molasses
I am Christmas songs in June staring you in the eye, begging you to tell me it's too early
I poke at my own bruises and have the audacity to condemn you for reaching out with spindly fingers to poke them too

I am also spiced gingerbread and hugs with too short of arms that seem to be able to hold you tight as if they're miles long
I am built from fire, one shot of me will leave your ears burning
My icicle veins have long since thawed leaving puddles deep enough for us to grab hands and jump into together
Butterfly kisses and cornflake potatoes shaped this body standing before you
My cells are made of crystals of sugar and tiny fireflies
And my heart reaches towards the souls floating around me

I am the good and the bad
I am leftover ashes from fallen homes
The longingness of nostalgia and the need for new adventure
I cry for the weeds that are cut down along the road while my own hands are painted with the dirt that pulled out my own

I am contradiction and balance
I am a desire to be.

You don't know my story,
but soon you will.

I was born as a citizen of the world,
I grew up jumping from one continent to the next.
I've learned to love differences in cultures
and I've learned that we're all the same after all.

I myself am an artist,
I put on canvas what my brain can't put into words.
I put on paper all the secrets that I hold.
I take pictures so I can make a moment last forever.
I obsessively listen to music that stirs my emotions.
I love to dance in solitude to sad songs.
I only see good in people, which can be problematic.
I would do anything for my loved ones.
I give strong hugs because I'm afraid every one will be the last one.
I don't understand my feelings, yet I express them in so many ways.
I believe in God and I've chosen to follow Him for the rest of my life.

That's my story.

The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of  tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”

I can tell you that I am tall,
an I am also not petite,
an some they might say sturdy,
like a tree who has two feet,

An I used to be so thin,
as a stick, I heard em say,
though I won't say I'm too big,
I'm no longer quite that way,

Well I have a little belly,
as some older women do,
I earned it,
what I think,
with my cooking yeah it's true,

So someone might say "chubby"
an I guess OK with that,
I keep an eye on the scale each day,
so I won't end up too fat,
as I sample of my cooking,
to add in this an that,

Sometimes I might wear some makeup
though most days I do not,
especially in the summertime,
when the sun is blazing hot,

I wear my jeans till *****,
yup more than just few hours,
some say I am a witch,
who's got some kinda powers,
I like the rain a lot you know,
and soaking in warm showers,

I'm not sure that I'm ****,
my face has many wrinkles,
I like vanilla bean ice cream,
with some yummy chocolate sprinkles,
and some say that I still glow at night,
my eyes they sorta twinkles, ; )

I sip my wine at night to ease,
I work and write by day,
my thoughts come in a rushing breeze,
way more than I can say,

I see the world much differently
than others who are around,
I hear the leaves as they fall dreaming,
an as they hit the sacred ground,
poetry is everyone,
in every lovely sight -an sound

I love my little Tanley cat,
he sits atop my shoulder,
first thing in the morning too,
an each day I'm gettin' older,
I don't take the **** life gives,
cuz I'm a gettin' a lil' bolder,
winters in Vermont are now
much warmer 'stead of colder,

I have an older Subaru,
with lucky all wheel drive,
that thing is like a tank ya know,
it's helped me stay alive,
if you are in the wilderness,
I could help ya to survive,

I cut an split our wood a lot,
but I say the "F" word too,
an I can cook most ANYTHING,
especially a stew!!

Emmmm, emmm yummy!

an I don't have a lot of friends,
but the few I have are true,

If you  really wanna know-
just what I'm really like,
well come up to Vermont -c'mon!
and we'll take a lovely hike,
or take snowmobile out in wintertime,
or catch a real big ugly pike,
or introduce you too my 6'8"
nephew -
who's name is little Mike,

I am so honest- genuine,
I love all people- same,
love is in my heart you see,
to me- it's not a game,
and life is what you make it,
so it's not about the blame,
an I no longer carry anger near,
or not any hidden shame,

I am a very gentle soul,
unless you cross me bad,
and even then I'd likely be,
only maybe sad,
I use my measures often too-
especially the "tad" : )

I think you'd want me in your corner-
I defend mine 'til the death,
an I will speak my certain truth-
until my last an dying breath,

Most days I feel misunderstood,
a curse I bear - alone,
I keep here pretty quite too,
an I like to be at home,

I guess I'm left of center,
NO didn't vote for stupid Trump,
I called him more than maybe twice,
an orange looking angry chump,

I have so many scars,
on my hands from workin hard,
I think I made clean money,
an now I am the bard,

Of a place I love the very most,
where I am my own queen,
and living every day here,
is nothing but a dream,
as I have come to realize,
things are never as they seem,

And we all need to learn,
to be present and to be,
okay with that,
as content is what I seek,

an until I am in total peace,
then I will write,
till the last word that I speak,

turning our truth-
into beautiful poetry.


Ma Cherie © 2017