Category: poetry

Let Go

I loosen my grip,
Lift up my hands,
Let everything slide
Away.

I move each finger,
Maintain my composure,
Make myself take a
Breath.

I stare at my reflection,
Sigh so I can think,
See the pain mixed with
Hope.

I blink back the tears,
Break away from the mirror,
Bring myself to face the
Truth.

My grip will never be,
Tight enough, to hold on,
To anything that isn’t
God’s plan.

Frozen

Green.
That’s how it started,
when life was new,
when spring arrived.

But spring became summer.
Heat and drought
stole the color.
And broke the stem.

Wind came and chilled
the air and the ground.
Scattering, shattering,
forcing it to go away.

To a new home, or place,
down on the ground.
Unprotected, a victim,
to the glass cold hold

Of the ice.

Even if the sun comes,
even if the ice melts,
even if the leaf thaws,
it’ll never go back

to the life it knew.

It’ll never go back,
onto the branch.
It’ll never grow back, 
onto the tree.

It’ll never again,
be green.

Not Done

one decision, one second, that
can’t be undone
brought me here, to a place
where memories haunt.

everything spun, out of control,
but seemed slower
than real life ever could—
accenting each mistake,

the regrets, the words unsaid,
screamed louder than
before—and echoed behind closed
lids. keeping me from peace.

but the silence now seems louder
than the screams ever dreamed,
leaving only the pounding truth
of my own heartbeat.

dreams, plans, and goals, can
just disappear, with
the next breath, the next blink,
leaving everything, everyone, behind.

life isn’t ours to keep.

it belongs to the One who
created it,
Who makes plans I can’t comprehend,
showing love that’s not deserved.

with arms outstretched, He reached
from east to west,
welcoming me back, no matter
how far I’ve wandered.

He takes the lies I hold as truth,
and showers me
with His grace and mercy,
telling my heart it’s okay,

telling me I am loved, that
I am more
than my mistakes and faults,
that there is a purpose,

Because He isn’t done with me yet.

Dandelion

We picked them as children,
Seeing a pretty flower,
A rarity, a prize,
Running around with the stem,
Clutched in our fists,

Until we found the perfect spot,
The exact moment, to hold it up
To the sky, to the light, twirling it
In our fingers, thinking,
Dreaming, of what to wish.

Air filled our cheeks, our eyes clenched shut.
We puckered our lips, exhaling
Sending dozens of parachutes into flight,
Hope clinging tightly to each one,
Even if we never knew where they landed.

Now, they’re only weeds—a
nuisance, somewhere they don’t belong.
Interrupting our lawns, our gardens,
Choking the crops or the roses,
Stealing their water and sun.

But what if they’re the products
Of a parachute we sent off as kids—
Floating, flying, falling, finding right
Where to land, where to live, to grow,
In order to teach us, again, to dream, to hope,

Right in the place we need it most.  

Keys

You said all you knew
Of the piano,
Were the sad chords.
Of heartbreak, of
Disappointment.

I watched your reflection
In the smooth, shiny black
Of the music stand.
Your eyes stayed down,
staring at the keys.

If only everything was
black or white.
Right or left.
Half or whole.

You played without music,
Your ears led the way.
I stayed silent, wondering
If you could ever believe
Your talent was worth the pain.

Our eyes met, and held
But our walls stayed in place.
I could teach you the happy chords.
Or you could teach me the sad—
The best melodies are made from both.

Not Enough

words fail, when they
should say everything.

but the blank page
intimidates the tender heart.

the ink wants to glide,
but the mind holds tight,

afraid of what the
consequence might be

if, when set free, the
words would mean more

to the heart, the mind
who wrote them, than

to the eye they’re given
to. an uneven distribution,

a fear of them being
too much. or worse—

they won’t ever be enough.

Dangling

Feet dangling, fighting gravity,
Black waves beckon and crash below.
The weather is changing, threatening,
What could be, what has been.

Spring brought new light, and life,
The sun lengthened each day.
Hope sprouted with every bud,
Flowers bloomed, with colors bright.

That growth moved into summer,
Electricity built with each lightning strike.
The scent of monsoon hung over head,
As the day faded into purple twilight.

Shadows fell, as the sun changed,
Drifting into fall’s shortened stage.
Leaves turned orange, or brown, dim,
Dried, died, lost their grip of home.

Cold air stung cheeks and noses,
Joints and bones ached in the wind.
Snow sank with grace but didn’t stay,
Just soaked the asphalt beneath it.

Feet dangling, fighting gravity,
Black waves beckon and crash below.
The weather changed, threatening,
What could be, what has been,
With seasons blown through, ignored.
Through the words left unsaid.

Moment

Time is fleeting

A moment lasts

Only until the next

Comes in

The bird poses, showing

Off, singing her song

Only until something

Scares her.

The rainbow exists,

Only while the light

And the moisture Are

transparent.

The sunflower grows, reaching

For new heights, until

The weight of her load,

Breaks her.

The camera flashes, capturing

Only that second, the

Surface. Only what exists,

Right then.

Sun and Moon

The sun and the moon are opposites.
One burns bright, blinding,
The busy day.
The other soft, lighting
The quiet night.

The sun, is a showoff,
He shines through anyone,
Or anything, that tries to hide
His face. His thundering laughter
Echoes off, even the darkest of cloud

Showing us that black and blue
circumstances, can’t keep him quiet.
He feels and reflects, only the light
Things of this life. Happiness
Fills his definition, his self.

He announces his presence,
When he arrives, when he leaves,
Painting the skies with gold and pink.
Making sure that even though he’s
Gone, at rest, you’ll remember.

The moon is still, silent,
Content to be hidden behind
The scenes. She knows her place,
Her purpose, shining simply so
Night is separate, from the day.

She feels the pain and tears
Of insomnia, watching over those
Who wait, who lose sleep, over lost
Dreams, chances, memories—
And finds she can relate.

She embraces each change, each
Phase she goes through. Taking note
Of how time passes by. Sometimes big,
Sometimes broken, sometimes hidden,
But never bold enough, to conquer the sky.

The sun and the moon are opposites,
One burns bright, blinding,
The other is soft, lighting.
But both burn with questions,
Of how the other exists.  

He longs to know the moon,
Her quiet, still, frame of mind,
The way she relates, the things she feels,
How she holds everything he lacks.

And she pines for a piece of the sun,
His light, carefree beams,
How he can laugh, shrug it off,
Admiration from all who see.  

To know more of her,
To be more like him.
A balance, a compromise,
Of everything simple,
Of all that’s complex.