Time reveals
written May 25th, 2021

Time gradually reveals
treasures dear
lines of poetry
flows of water
buds on the tree

they feed the soul
if patience perseveres
polishing
raw painful shards
until they crack open
revealing glorious brilliance
that shines briefly

time dearest
just another day
another second
hold on
for time to reveal
her treasures.

~I want to eat my life
—Olga Broumas, "If I Yes", Gift of Tongues

I want to eat my life
written June 11th, 2021

I
me, us, we
he, she, they
singular
plural
all of us
all of me.
I

want
that aching sensual word
not the bare factualness of need
something born in the soul
it takes hope to want
and incredible bravery.
I want

to eat
slowly like little bites of chocolate
then voraciously like melting ice cream
all of it - every last bite
because it is my favorite thing in the world.
I want to eat

my
mine - not borrowed -
not shared - not apologized for -
not stolen - not ashamed of -
not asked for - begged for - pleaded for
mine.
I want to eat my

life
I want to love it - build it -
want it - claim it - live it fully
from top to bottom and side to side
every inch of it known, explored and claimed.
I want to eat my life.

Survival of the fittest
written October 10th, 2020

Survival of the fittest.
What does that mean?
Fit for what?

Fit for keeping a multitude of shameful secrets?

Fit for being able to fill multiple mutually exclusive roles?

Fit for loving the ones who hurt you over and over?

Fit for hiding in plain sight?

So you survive
and you are so good at being invisible
that nobody can see you.

You love passionately
moments from the past
and books from the present.

You are a multitude
but none is complete
or known by the world.

You hold the secrets inside of you
until you are the only one
that remembers them.

None of these skills
help you
in the real world.

Sometimes the result

isn't survival of the fittest

but just survival of those that survive.

For you I would build
written May 9th, 2021

If I could build a life
if I was that kind of architect
I'd build days filled with sun
soft colors - soft light - soft surfaces

you would always have shelter
and never be cold
your nightlight
would be the steady stars in the sky

your world would be filled
with food music and books
to help you grow healthy and strong
nourished with delight

I'd be every kind of person
to hold you
to make you laugh
to inspire you with wonders
so you are never alone

I would build this
if I could
for you
___

I whisper to you
you are safe always
just be brave
and whisper back to me
if there is anything you want

I would pull down a star for you
plant a tree in the middle of your room
inhabit it with koalas
make an oasis in the desert
a bridge across the ocean
(I am an engineer - and so - you are also)

Each day I try
to face my fears
for us

I live waiting to hear your voice
to know you feel
safe enough to want.

I want to go home
started April 7th, 2020

I sit in a corner
a small child
and cry, saying:
I want to go home.

I have a lovely safe home
but I'm not sure
I always live here.
I want to go home.

What does 2020 or Atlanta mean?
Sometimes it feels like
they have no context.
I want to go home.

My first definition of home
was built of opposites:
comfort-pain
violate-nurture
shaping-shattering
love-h­urt.

When everything
is tainted what is left?
What is the opposite
of everything? Nothing?
I want to go home.

I cry for a home
that was my everything
and that was also no home.
I want to go home.

I learn how to breath
over and over again
trying to recognize - redefine - repair.
I want to go home.

I want to know why?
written March 31st, 2021

I want to know why
you had to do
the things you did.

I know you hated yourself
and everything about your world
and I know
you loved me.

I know there were generations
of alcoholism and abuse.
Nobody told me,
but I know.

I want to know why
I have to live like this
the chaos and fracturing inside
on these bad days.

I want to know why
there isn't any answer
no balm or salve to sooth
this rampant infection in me.

I want to know why
it has to be this way.

Some songs have no name
written October 19th, 2020

I come back to the same theme
of pain and the past
manifesting in my present.

I have tried ignoring them.
I have tried fighting them.
I have sought therapists and seers
who teach me new ways to battle,
but what I fight and avoid
just seems to get stronger.

Forgive they say.
I  WILL  NOT
say it was ok
tell you to go peacefully to your death
with no stain on your conscience.

I try accepting
living with the demons and memories
the hurt and betrayal
where there should have been safety and comfort.

Will I die an old lady one day
still crying and hiding?
Will I find a peace of my own?
Can origami cranes and butterflies
fill my skies?