She said
you are enough. you are loved.
You are
So much of what you fear can
Never be.

She said
There are no mirrors I can
Hold up
For perception once skewed see all
mirrors spotted

Your eyes.
So fickle and short sighted
That you
Can’t see what lays before you
Or just beyond.

A blindness
To all that is beautiful.
You **** hope
Before it may give you
Another chance.

You comment in that kind of
Amusement
About the heart I wear on my
Sleeve
Except that what’s on my sleeve
Is not my heart
It’s merely it’s
Shadow

We, unaccustomed to courage
says Maya.
We, who have chosen
with choices we were not aware
of making
as we made them.

we need a revolution.
some courageous warriors
that will lead us into
liberation.

but the frontline soldiers
never come home.

the most beautiful thing
that god does
to people

is that he gifts them

to each other.

desperate times call for desperate measures.
they say.
it's a life lived in desperation then.
a desperate hope.
so near to despair.

every morning
i walk into this space:
a classroom.
i turn on the lights,
open cabinets,
set the tables
with paper and pencil.
i tell myself that i will teach you what i know,
which is not much.
i read you stories, tell you about poetry
and i let you play.
in exchange,
you teach me what you know:
to laugh at myself, to play,
to look at the world around me
and take notice of it.
every now and then i wonder,
who is the teacher?
is it me
or
is it you?