"risked" poems
The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding
then revealing the way you should take,
the road dropping away from you as if leaving you
to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,
when you thought you would fall, and the way forward
always in the end the way that you came, the way
that you followed, the way that carried you into your future,
that brought you to this place, no matter that it sometimes
took your promise from you, no matter that it always
had to break your heart along the way, the sense
of having walked from far inside yourself out into the revelation,
to have risked yourself for something that seemed
to stand both inside you and far beyond you,
that called you back in the end to the only road
you could follow, walking as you did, in your
rags of love and speaking in the voice
that by night, became a prayer for safe arrival…
by: David Whyte
excerpt from SANTIAGO
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
At age 7, I was guilty
when I accepted an invitation
to go into the apartment of a neighbor
He smelled of beer as he groped me.
At age 10, I was guilty
when I walked home too late
because I missed the train
He popped out of the bushes
exposing himself.
At age 12, I was guilty
when my uncle forced
tongue into my mouth
because I could not
get away.
At age 14, I was guilty
when my uncle forced
me to sit on his lap
while in my bathing suit
and I ran away from home.
At age 16, I was guilty
when my uncle convinced
everyone that I was a liar
and I quit school.
At age 18, I was guilty
when I gave birth to
my first child,
because I was ignorant.
At age 20, I was guilty
when I saw the cardiologist
in the reflection of a lamp
************ and the
police laughed at my report.
At age 30, I was guilty
when my employer
trapped me in the elevator
to ***** me, because I
was his subserviant.
At age 36, I was guilty
when I earned jujitsu honors
but risked going to jail
for defending myself.
At age 70, I was guilty
when a neighbor brought
me fruit and grabbed my
breast, because I was alone.
At age 72, I am guilty
of being a ferule woman
for 50 years and for
NOT be silent!
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
She has fought through illness and heart pain.
She has seen tragedies, time and again.
She risked her own life so I could be born.
Not listening to the doctors who said to abort.
She has stood through life's trials,
and has come out stronger.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.
She has questioned God.
But her faith has not faltered.
She has placed herself in His hands,
for however long He gives her.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.
She is gentle-spirited, yet a warrior.
She is quiet, yet bold.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.
And she is still fighting.
She has endured long.
And continues to endure.
Whatever comes.
Her story will be told.
To future generations.
I will tell her story.
Her legacy of faith.
For I am her daughter,
and I love her.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.
With her Faithful God behind her.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
Do you see that rocking chair,
rocking on the front porch?
Unsteady, creaking, rotted wood,
rocking back and forth.
Do you see that elderly man,
sitting in that rocking chair?
Fragile, old, withering away,
running his hand through his grey hair.
Do you know that elderly man,
and what he's done for our country?
Fought, killed, risked his life,
all for the "Land of the Free".
Do you feel for that elderly man,
sitting alone on his front porch?
Has no family, no wife, no kids,
no one to carry his torch.
Where did that elderly man go?
For sale sign in the front yard.
Heart attack? Seizure? No, suicide.
Looks like living got too hard.
Do you see that rocking chair,
rocking on the front porch?
Unsteady, creaking, rotted wood,
alone it rocks,
back and forth.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
Princess Leia, we bid thee bye
May the Force be with you as you fly
Through unforgetting hearts and minds
As Empires fall & the Rebells rise
Your story unfolding before our eyes
We look at your legacy of New Hope
How you melted the heart of Han Solo
Risked your life to save the galaxy far
Did your part destroying the Death Star
And in your heart forgave that vile Darth Vader
Such a person we shall remember
Rest in peace Carrie Fisher.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
i've found myself swerving off the road when the sun is setting.
when splashes of orange, pink, yellow spray across the summer sky my eyes wander away from the road and i'm lost in the color.
i've risked my life just to catch a glimpse of heaven's painting, and i think that's how it is every time i look at you.
i chase sunsets like i chase you,
always wanting to see more of you and not being able to stop myself.
you're as beautiful as a sunset,
and i'll keep chasing you until i crash.
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
In a straight line I walk,
A lot of work, without talk
Under leaves and over rocks
Heavy lifts to keep our stocks
The Queen has ordered this
Everything she wants, we can't miss
Now, I regret I've followed her wish
'Cause I've risked my life with this
The enormous creature's over our heads
Makes me wanna break our thread
Its gigantic limb slowly lands
And the last thing I could do is wave my hands...
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
There was a very cautious man
Who never laughed or played
He never risked, he never tried,
He never sang or prayed.
And when he on day passed away,
His insurance was denied,
For since he never really lived,
They claimed he never died.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
I convinced a man he could prune his own ****
That if he spliced it just so,
two little pink shafts would sprout in it's place.
Wriggle themselves growing into two separate fully functional phallus.
And I watched him.
As he reluctantly reached for the shears.
And went through the five stages of grieving.
"There's no way this will work.
**** you for telling me this secret!
can't I just take a pill to grow a second **** without having to cut this one off?
I don't think I can live without it..."
but just think, I reminded him.
after you do this.
You're gonna have TWO *****
"I'M GONNA HAVE TWO *****
TWO *****
And with almost no other thought, reasoning or belief.
He closed the shears
He opened his eyes.
His flaccid privilege laying there.
"When does the growing start?"
He asked me, pained.
His big brown eyes swelling.
"It doesn't."
"WHAT?"
"I lied to you, it doesn't grow back."
"It doesn't grow back? Not even one?
"Not one, not two,
no **** for you. I lied."
"Lied?"
"Lied."
it was easy,
to convince him.
Just had to promise he'd have two times the power in the long run.
If he risked it all right now.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
(history)
Quell the bard was silken-clad and ever young.
her flute connected earth and sky,
tamed lightning in the higher notes..
her ancient horse would winnie to her song
of endless breath she blew her story even into stone.
having borne the stigmas of a *****
her martial prowess struck,
trampled disrespect to cacophonic dust
while over hills and vales he carried her--
a love-sick equine heart at peace at last upon the road
between her thighs, commanded loyalty of beasts and men.
none claimed her for their own,
though some risked instant death to try
..stirge beaks tap on bones and rock
to seek corrupted blood of elven kings,
who having reigned and fallen
to a royal troglodyte of dragon times,
paint each eon with ambivalence...
i conjure what my heritage beholds
--reclusive double-tongue to hoard all words,
reinvent religions for a lark
what legend am i privy to the making of
that hasn't had its underwires stripped,
hung about a square in lewd display of Fact
to purge a sense of mystery awry?
i am alone within my fantasy.
its symbols still mythologize my i.
i will not bare it here, or anywhere--
concealment is its freedom, and its boon--
in which a frame of tenuous material appears
where antidote addictions cycle musically,
the timeline's summoning
a game of recompense, compensating wanderlust
won by whim and licorice for thought;
it finds familiarity untamed--
adolescent anchorage aweigh--
adventures into wildernesses lost
.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant
eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place
and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to
this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree
take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
woke up 2pm this morning
squandered all the afternoon
building magic fortresses, high on rainbow rock
til my eyes got sore and i got dizzy
from a sunny, golden-yellow glare
opened up the window, let in the draft
let in the air
(and risked pneumonia)
and I started thinking clearly then,
I started thinking when,
the deathly cold, cursed, no-remove,
fresh air got to my brain
and i sat there by the window
kept it open, 'spite the wind and rain
just following my train
of thought
(and risked pneumonia)
i felt that neither ice nor fire can do me harm
but why is it right now i feel too cold
yet still too warm
feel like a fire can freeze me,
and a breeze may bring me heatstroke,
feels like some sick ******* joke
but i started thinking clearly then,
i started thinking clearly when
my temperature went down
and i got to thinking,
and looking back
to before cold felt warm
and it came to me, i realized...
(i didnt catch pneumonia)
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
He had his own scent
His own type of aura
It came off like clouds of dust
From within his skin, burnt sienna
He had something shiny there
Some kind of hazy dream
But if I ever asked about it
He'd say it's not what it seems
You see, my daddy was a smoking man
But I didn't know quite yet
The meaning of that phrase
Not to its full extent
I was intrigued with his eyes
And the way he spoke
I would watch forms shape
From thick, grey, and poisonous smoke
He had something earthy there
Wrapped in some tin foil
He would rub it in his hands
And trade cash for his spoils
You see, my daddy was a merchant man
I learned that on a cold night
Sitting alone in his rusty jeep
When the other men wanted to fight
My daddy looked to me
Telling me to look away
Maybe, I should have listened
It was took late anyway
An explosion sounded
It's echo ringing in my ear
My daddy on the ground
Convulsing in fear
Screaming, someone was screaming
I stop to listen
And realize it was me
My feet were moving
And I was there next to him
Trying to stop the blood
That was covering my skin
He had a look on his face
Like he was trying to explain
But every time he tried to speak
He didn't know what to say
He had some kind of waste there
The wind had scattered all around
He was too deep in this world
No way else to fall down
You see, my daddy was a smoking man
Right down to his core
Couldn't see past the nightmares
To get off of the floor
He got lost in his hazy dreams
Somehow the pain would ease
You see, my daddy was a merchant man
But he let himself get burned
He risked everything he had
And got nothing in return
He took chances with gunshot wounds
Had some silly notion he was immune
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Yours were the arms that held me
on the very first day I was born.
Looking back at pictures,
I can tell how much you truly adored
the little babies that commanded your attention
on that frigid November day.
You held our hands as we took our first steps,
and you held us when we cried.
You laughed when we’d take little stumbles;
you’d put soap in our mouths when we lied.
But your love for us remained,
Unwavering —
Nothing could take it away.
Before you knew it,
You were watching us walk across the stage;
both high school and college flew by.
You attended every single ceremony;
we were never left asking, “why.”
You have remained our utmost support system -
you’ve always made it all okay.
Through tough love & your strength,
you raised us the best way you knew how;
we’re quickly growing into young women -
Grammy would smile to see us now.
She would be so proud of you;
she’d laugh and shed a tear.
“Mare,” she’d say, “Look at your beautiful babies..
My god, it’s been so many years.”
She’d leave you with a slight kiss on the forehead;
you’d turn around and she’d be gone.
“A dream,” you’d think,
but she’s always here with us,
though it feels like it’s been so long.
Momma, I’m sorry;
I know that we fight.
I think that you’re wrong;
you know that you’re right.
our personalities may be
like day and like night…
but I am you, and you are me.
I promise I’m not blind to see
that for us, you have risked everything -
for us, you have done everything -
for us, you are everything.
I’ll sign off here; it’s time to go.
But in your heart,
please always know:
You are the absolute best mother
& Momma, I love you so.
Happy Birthday.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
He saved my life,
but he couldn't save his own,
He risked his life,
To be where he was goin,
5 pills took his life away,
5 pills and bein drunk won,
Now I stand at his grave,
Here lies my cousin,
Who was only 17.
Jan 2, 2021
Jan 2, 2021 at 8:12 PM UTC
I hate to break it to you but heroes like Superman, and Batman, and Spiderman don’t actually exist.
But that doesn’t mean there aren’t heroes in this world, they just aren’t in capes and spandex. They can’t fly or shoot lasers from their eyes. They can’t lift a car with one finger and they aren’t affected by kyptonite. These heroes are people you pass every day, you may speak to them, and you may not. But they are there.
The 18 year old kid who takes care of his brother when his parents leave and decide not to come back he is a hero.
The 9 year old boy who saved his friend by pulling him out of an icy lake, is a hero
The mother that decides to leave her husband and take her kid with her when he starts hitting them, she is a hero.
Those who stand up for what they believe in, are heroes
The little girl who used the Heimlich maneuver (which she saw on a disney channel show by the way, see disney can teach us useful skills) to save the life of her 1st grade classmate who was choking on an apple, is a hero
Every friend that will drive to your house at 3 am because you are home alone and you are scared of what you might do if you are alone much longer. Every friend that tells you that everything will be alright, and that you may be ******* up, but that doesn’t mean that you will always be that way, friends that remind you things can and will get better. Are all heroes.
The woman who caught a baby that fell out a window is a hero.
The firefighter who risked everything to save a little girl or little boy is a hero.
The men and women in blue are heroes... Or they are when they aren’t shooting innocent people...
Or the man who broke his neck and had to give up the career he had done his whole life, but then turned what could have been a devastating change into an opportunity to follow his dream and is now happier than ever because he realizes that life is too short and can end too quickly to be unhappy, and now he is one of the strongest, funniest, most joyful person I’ve ever met. He is a hero.
Or the woman who went back to school after her divorce and now is happy and able to not only support her self but also her family.
These people are real life true heroes, not some made up ******** with super powers. Because you don’t need to be able to fly or see through walls to be a hero.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC
As I sit on this assigned desk
ears drooling with institution gel
I swirl on the seat, the wind pause
Musing in evangelised dilemmas
Lobotomised to jerking veracities
Sagacity amateurs boost egos
Stooping and stooging in asylums
Barricading others progression
Regressed losing solid grounds
Jurisdictional custodial supervisions
An infused scent of propagandism
Scenes of robotic observational modelling
Unprincipled to insist on another destiny
Calculating targeted risked predictions
Regulated to invigilate and unroll a matrix grid
Who am I? To forge his,her or their trench
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
I believe people can change. Anyone, in any time of their life can change, but only if they are willing. The problem lies in the fact that most people are not willing to change, they are, instead, trying to change you.
I have tried to reach through their mental barriers, but words only push so hard. I tried to show them videos, certian circumstances, I even took a stand against an entire community, risked relationships with people that I love, people who looked up to me, people that were important... But, I guess, not as important as the big picture I see.
They will always refuse to see my picture and rather show me theirs. I listened, I watched, I read, and I submerged myself in their world, and tried to see what they saw... And I still said "no".
So when I try to do the same, I am not even aloud to bring it up anymore, unless it's from their relm, because they are cowards. They want to believe, not take action. People are timid to bleed, to cry, to feel what another feels. The truth makes them cringe because they don't understand. They don't want to understand. So therefore it's wrong, or it's right, or it ceases to exist.
Change requires action.
I hope you're comfey in your chair.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
*I wish we met when her tarmac road was still mellow
Then when she still danced to the Congolese tune "Mbelo",
I wish we met when she could not stare in the eyes
Right when she was too shy to tell any lies,
I wish we met when she was still under her Mama's apron strings
So innocent, when she still trusted human beings,
I wish we met when she did church each and every Sunday
And had no thought of bearing a guilty conscience someday,
I wish we met when she saw the world for her best, not her worst
When the balloon of her ***** wasn't yet burst,
I wish we met when her future was still blinding bright
Wish I'd seen her in the dawns of her life, not the nights
When she knew no whiskeys or beers but only Fanta and Sprite
So that she wouldn't get herself in trouble and drunken fights,
I wish we met when she still had dry “unkisssed’’ lips
When she thought kisses were an unhealthy swap of saliva,
I wish we met when she hadn't developed attractive hips
When she wasn't a depressed Heart-wreck survivor,
I wish we met when she still believed in fantasy and fairy tales
And had a honest fascination for cowry shells,
I wish we met when she flamboyantly wore her natural African hair
When she still thought herself naturally beautiful and fair,
I wish we met when studies hadn't corrupted her mind and stolen all her hours
When she still smiled at the sight of frail petals of red rose flowers,
Wish we met when the movie title that described her ******* isn't “Olympus
Has Fallen”
But probably “Hard Boiled”, “Only the Strong” or “Swollen”,
I wish we met when she had faith in things like weddings, when her soul was
a spring of hope
When she hadn't lost respect for such societal norms preferring to elope,
I wish we met when she still respected danger
And risked not accepting courtesy from every rich stranger,
I wish we met when she believed true love existed in the world
Maybe then she'd believe my each and every word,
I wish we met when she still honestly needed a friend
I’m sure I’d be there to love and care for her till the end.*
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
Godless men wearing back
sit within blistering sun.
As they carrying their sacred book
soaked in an evil not from any GOD.
And they some how get
**** **** ****
**** for God.
As they ironically tell the
world that it is
blaspheming.
Come and join us
or be buried alive.
Yes come and join us
Let us brutalize and castrate
your daughter your child.
And give your son a gun while
we go cut of some heads.
As we rip out your heart
with blood and violence.
And ask you to spit on all
love and humanity.
As you stand within your shaking bodies
you look into the eyes of your
wife and only see terror in
her heart.
You know that you must
RUN
Thousands of you are swept
like the dirt into the sea.
Mothers and Fathers crying as
children are lost and drowning.
Someones baby washed up like
drift wood or a log.
Cut all with razor wire
climbing caged out fences.
As a heart cry's I only want a
new family home I will polish
your shoes wash all your loos.
Please they scream we are only
human
Sorry I don't think anyone
is listening.
Westerners wake up lounging
on their sofa belly's spilling
over their trouser.
Stomachs extended inflated
from just a little to much
extra seconds.
Looking on disconnected
at those who traveled risked
their lives even walked
a thousand miles.
And some how spill out with
their lager down their cheek
thieves ****** and
lazy freeloaders.
And those who succeed to
find a new home some how
elegantly find a dignity
in being unwanted.
And those who failed their
perilous path trust in God
has left them homeless
As they find the west
also Godless.
As we with a cool glare tell
them go back to your guns
bombs your not welcome
here.
Stone face matter of fact
immigration explained
take your children back.
As we try to through them
back like babies into a dog
or snake pit.
SHAME ON US
for this frosty reception
and cloudy perception
I hold out hope for a
better conclusion.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
EVIL IS AS EVIL DOES 10-13-09
Evil is as Evil does. Thoughts are just that.... thoughts. Deeds are deeds. A thought is not a deed unless it is carried out.
I am a good person; I know that for a fact.
BUUUUT...........it doesn't mean I always do good things.
Still, most of my crimes are altruistic. I risked my entire sanity the other day as I left Sam's Club/Costco, etc.
I was walking back to my truck and parked next to me was a BEEAAuuutiful Porch convertible, Black; doe skin interior, all leather and polished wood.
16 inches away from me was an 800.00 Dollar Ipod, resting peacefully and securely in its little Ipod holder mounted to the dash. SIXTEEN INCHES.
I got in my truck and got out of my truck. Again, I got in my truck and out of my truck.
My Godchild, K had just had her Ipod stolen.
So, I figured *** for Tat".
Being as stupid as I can be (on record), I went for it. The car alarm raised me higher than my truck. Panicked, I sped out of the parking lot and called my therapist. In a frantic voice, I disillusioned "OH, My God! I've just committed murder!!!” Or at least that's how it felt.
My neighbor was swimming in my cheap above ground pool when I got home.
She asked a simple question: "Well, Hmmmmm....did you take the Ipod from the vehicle?"
Now this puts a completely different spin on my sin.
"Uh, noooooo, uuuhhh, I was just looking at it!"
I couldn’t believe how easy it was to change my view. But she was right, I hadn't committed theft, I almost did. And I'm the kind of person that would chase someone down in a parking lot to return his unknown, dropped, wallet.
This one always get my head spinning: …”Even though I walk In the SHADOW of the Valley of Death”….
Uh, wait a tic. The SHADOW of a bee can not sting you. The SHADOW of a cat can not scratch you. The SHADOW of a snake can not bite you.
What the fuuuh? I kind of get it. Our brains are weird. Our thoughts are strange. Thank God for that...most of the time....
Love, Susan
PS: But I'm still kind of ****** at the arrogant ******* who so blatantly demonstrated how rich he was.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
This dark sky got me thinking & wishing for you
This candle burning slow represents all we've been through
The numbness of this colddd feeling
Longgg healing
I'm not sure if I'll be alright
I can't stand the fact your heart for me doesn't beat the same
Remember like it was yesterday when you beautifully recited your name..
My eyes have gotten soo heavy
I just waaaasn't ready
This pain's just weighing me down.
My mind's in the fire,
I can feel the memories burn
I should of listened when she said "heartbreaks the only way you'll learn"
I hope these words find you..
I hope one day you understand..
I should've loved all your flaws
(Piano) I should've
(Light piano) risked it all, jumped into your love...(piano) should've been a better man. (Piano ending) (tears on the page) (ohh) a better man.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
I didn't learn about being beautiful from supermodels walking down the runway. I didn't learn about being beautiful from glamorous movie stars or musicians. I didn't even learn about being beautiful from the pretty girls at my school. No. I learned about beauty from my best friends and the freckles on their cheeks. I learned about beauty from the scars and imperfections they hated. I learned about beauty by watching them believe they aren’t.
I didn't learn about being intelligent in school. I didn't learn about being intelligent from some documentary I watched or book I read. I didn’t learn about being intelligent from studying day and night. No. I learned about being smart from my brother. I learned about being intelligent when I watched him stress for four years about college. I learned about being intelligent by helping him cram for tons of tests and quizzes and celebrating his success. I learned about being intelligent listening to his sobs when he received a full ride to his dream college.
I didn’t learn about being kind from some after-school special. I didn’t learn about being kind from watching my parents help being at the supermarket. I didn’t even learn about being kind from being treated so unkindly. No. I learned about being kind from my band director. I learned about being kind when I sat in her office with tears permanently stained on my cheeks and she just accepted my tears. I learned about being kind when she let me sleep on her shoulder for two hours on a bus. I learned about being kind when she gave me the coat off her back because I didn’t have one.
I didn’t learn about being courageous from daredevils on the news. I didn’t learn about being courageous from gutsy characters in books or on television. I didn’t learn about being courageous from teens who thought yelling at a teacher for no reason meant courage. No. I learned about being courageous from the people I saw stand up for themselves and for others no matter where it may be. I learned about being courageous from the people who risked their lives to save somebody they didn’t know. I learned about being courageous from the men and women who defended our country everyday, sometimes with nothing to show for it.
I've learned about beauty, intelligence, kindness, and courage throughout the years. From my best friends, my brother, band director, or perfect strangers. I didn’t learn about those things through mainstream ways that you find crammed down your throat.
You don't have to learn how to be you through people you don't know. Take a step back and look at those you do, because I'm sure it'll mean more to you when you start seeing those qualities in yourself.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
You, who are to come, the illusive one,
come to find me on this day.
Far outshine those who have come before,
and leave your light with me to stay.
I've thought of you for countless years
imagining who and what you'd be.
I've sought you out in many ways
and places though I've never seen
you here in anyone, though fooled at times
by those so charmed and smooth.
Was it you who kept me in the dark
to play the imposter's fool?
I picture you as dark and tall
with youth still running in your soul.
Someone who'll risk to take a chance
and fall in love with one this old.
So I wait for you to give me a sign
of what lies in wait for me
to give me hope through these sad days
to what my future life will be.
You've never risked yourself for love.
Be bold, for life is fleeting by
at least for this lost soul in time,
you have to give our love a try.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC