childhood memories feel like rust
crumbling in my fingers and leaving their orange stains
as i skip over the horrific teenaged years
that my little sister
remembers as her childhood.

i resent her for having a bad childhood.
i say that our childhood was good, was great
with two loving parents
in a big house in the country
with long grass and animals to hold.
but her childhood was a falling down home
with seeping walls and crying mothers and a screaming father
stuck in a house that imprisoned all of us in seclusion
and an older redheaded sister
who maintained control in her life
run by parents who no longer saw reason or justice
by treating her little redheaded sister
like trash.

i forget that her childhood was not mine
i forget that the things she remembers were awful
that daddy did scream and shove
that mommy did cry and quake and throw and push and smash and shove and scream and rip
in the middle of the night
while she slept
and i wandered
the lonely caverns of my book-filled room
where i hid with my fantastical friends
who shielded me from the screams
in the middle of the night
that your deaf ears
missed

i am sorry for undermining the truth of your childhood
i forget that we are different
i forget what changed
i forget the hidden, resentful monster that overtook our parents
and bled down into their children
but you,
you remember
it was the only thing you knew

i remember the good,
you remember
the screams

And with the first showers
Comes the kind of sadness
Which only half loved lovers
Can feel.

And I had to walk away
I was just hoping at least he noticed I didn't run

Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you

Fourteen years ago when I held you in my arms, it seemed surreal. So fragile you were and like a tiny doll. Only God knows how much I miss being able to pick you up and hug you tightly close to my heart whenever I feel depressed.
And yet I love you now all the more. You are so special to me and always shall be. Our family has shared so many joys and so much heartbreak through the swiftly passing years.
You are sunshine and daybreak and iridescent rainbow hues.
The baby has been replaced with a very special friend.


Happy Birthday Sweet Daughter!


Much Love,
From Your Mother

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.