Through poetry, I found my voice.
Lost, long ago, shame gave me no choice.
I used to speak in front of hundreds,
thousands even,
and now I don't speak, I listen;
to the ballads;
to the tunes of the heart; the words we don't say.
The beats are the words I wished were okay.
But, by not talking, I had come out of sync
with who I became, needing to re-ink
Become proud even, to reclaim.
My voice sounds different now, softer and older, but the essence is still the same.

Rhythms,
Unashamed sounds,
Playing to the beat of their internal drum,
No fear of questioning,
But unleashing originality as it comes.

a tangible taste
transference of grace

a snake forsaken
for old times' sake

look up
keep watch
a vigilant face

arise drenched in mercy
sins erased

I feel hungover,
Ugly and fat.
(It might be
that I drank last night),
But it is more likely
That's because of
Gluttony.
I'm not chasing
Anything, anyone, anymore.
There's no anxiety,
Is it depression?!
What is this unknown place?
I know to be present,
Which elevates and calms
These feels,
So I'll sit and watch:
The butterflies and bees,
Release this heavy
state till free,
And embrace these sensations
just now, of me.

living foolheartedly,
open and free,
embodying all senses
to make sense of you and me.