Category Archives: Poetry

Rain

Hello, my old friend.
How lovely to see you again!
It’s been far too long
since I inhaled your sweet scent
since I felt you brush my lips, my arms, the top of my head
since I was embraced and enveloped by you.

Tonight, you’ve brought hope.
You’ve brought life.
You’ve brought joy.

Come again soon?

When the music is live and so am I

I breathe in.
The music swells
it threatens to overtake me.
But I am not consumed.

Is it the lyrics
the harmonies
or the instruments
so expertly played that affect me so
deeply?

My heart feels
several sizes larger.
Too big for my chest.
It should hurt.
In some ways it does.

I feel
overwhelmed.
Even more than normal.
Feelings that have no words to
explain them.
Feelings I can’t identify.

It’s the intersection of
joy and
heartache.

I feel so alive.

And in this moment
I am happy to be sad.

Fear thou not

I’ve been scared to write.
Terrified, even.
I have the words,
I just lack the courage.

Because the world is harsh.
People especially.
And I care too much
what they think.

I’m still trying to figure out what I know.
And I’m afraid of being judged in this process.
The fear is paralyzing.

Yet…

Fear thou not,
the prophet wrote.

Fear thou not. 

And I’m tired of being afraid.

“the train-song”

The city sleeps,
though I do not.

The regular hustle and bustle
reduced to stillness.
To quiet. Almost too quiet.

Then I hear the train whistle.

How can such a lonely sound feel like home?

I remember childhood nights,
tucked inside my bed,
listening to the same soulful tune.

I wonder. Was it lonely then (too)?
Was I?

Back then the whistle
sounded like adventure.
The train was going somewhere.
I was not.

Now I’m somewhere.

And the train-song makes me dream of home.

“counting the heartbeats”

The seconds turn into minutes,
ticking away one by one.

Those are my heartbeats
I hear,
pounding in my head
marking off the time
marching toward

something.

Just not
the something I need.

I lie here
stomach in knots.
Mind buzzing,
head aching.

The sleep I so desperately long for
staying just out of reach.

But the heartbeats…

the heartbeats soldier on.

“Drowning”

It is good to know,
I suppose,
that one is drowning.

Less helpful,
though,
if what you are drowning in is unclear.

Water?
Fight to keep breathing,
to reach for the surface.
Find the strength to move.

But if quicksand?
Halt.
Stop fighting.
Find the will to be still.

If you don’t know?

“Am I brave enough to keep asking?”

Questions without answers.
They used to scare me shitless.

Some of them still do.

I’ve learned to live in the tension with others;
we’ve found an uneasy co-existence, of sorts.

But I realized something.

Now,
I might be more scared of the answers.

“The Storm”

Standing here, I inhale the sweet, cleansing,
intoxicating smell of the rain.

I ponder.
Why do I love the storm?

Wind swirls around me,
tousling my hair,
shaking the leaves of the giant palm tree overhead.

I’m reminded.
My favorite kind of weather
is a storm.

The more violent the tempest,
the more alive
(yet at peace) I feel.

I wonder.
What does that say about me?