Poetry

Ywa

I will NOT call you names, like pathetic asshole loser dickface motherfucker. No. Even if there is a deep and delicious desire to say to you, “you are a purposeless and wasteful space of a human who only exists so the people of the earth understand what evil and darkness is.” NO. I won’t say any of it. Not a chance.

What I WILL say is:

 

I am kind.
I am loyal.
I am trusting.
I am courageous.
I am brave.
I am honest.
I am intelligent.

I am a good person.
I am a good mother.
Remarkably good, in fact.

I have a pure heart, a loving heart, a bold and open heart.
I speak freely, I speak truthfully.
I am a daughter, a sister, a colleague,
I am a writer, a storyteller, a risk taker.
I am STRONG.

Strong enough to battle demons
Strong enough to carry humans
inside of my tiny body
and bring them into this massive universe
Yeah – ME. I did that.
I fucking did that.
Strong enough to be kind to unkind people
Strong enough to be alive
Strong enough to be HONEST
and RELIABLE

Ywa – and I am beautiful.
Darling I am GORGEOUS.
Have you SEEN my smile?

Anyone – ANYONE – would be lucky to have me in their lives

because I am good.
My parents are PURE. And I am PURE.
We are imperfect and we are sinners
But we are PURE OF HEART

And that is exactly why I know I will be okay

Because I WILL say: I am EVERYTHING and ALL of the things

Poetry

Careless Criminals

Cruel intentions
The pair of them had
What they saw in each other
Made their victims quite sad

Contorted and twisted 
Their minds intertwined 
Blind to their sins
Casting shadows on their crimes

Callous disregard 
For inculpable scapegoats
Eager to drown the vulnerable
Who merely tried to stay afloat 

Cutthroat and dirty
With blood on their hands
They got away with gluttony
Euphoric in the sand

Cashflow in, misery out
A trail of transgressions left behind
For a friend they disposed of overnight
Her pain and suffering far from their minds. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry

Waiting

She wakes at three
in the morning
sweaty and confused —
Heart rapid fire
feeling black and blue

Plunges her hand under
the pillow
to check for her phone —
Head wrecking ball
feeling alarmingly alone

No missed calls
or messages
capsized by her panic —
Hands earthquaking
feeling episodic and manic

blue alone manic
rapid wrecking earthquaking
waiting waiting waiting
plunging into fire
capsized
into blue panic

Heavy heart
Heavy head
Heavy hands

 

Poetry

Ruminiscent

“Tell your father he needs to stop drinking,”
the mother told her daughter.
The daughter wrote a note to her father
and taped it to a bottle of rum.
It read, ‘daddy, please stop drinking.’
When the little girl checked the bottle
the very next day,
the note had been torn off —
only the corners with tape remaining.

“Tell your daughter-in law to take out her husband food,”
the father in-law said to the mother in-law.
The daughter in-law placed her husband’s food
on the table, and asked him to eat.
The husband ignored her
Dropping cubes of ice into his glass —
Clink, clink,
the rum poured over the ice,
into the soda
Swirling into the same shade of brown
Behind the mist in her eyes.

“Tell us mommy,” the daughters said, “is daddy sick?”
The mommy looked at the daddy
laying asleep on the bed,
skin thin and yellow —
a papery sheet over his diseased liver.
She looked back at her little girls,
Into their curious, warm, brown
eyes
And saw herself in them.
She reached out,
extended her arms and embraced her children
for a long, long time.

 

Poetry

Opening

You opened the door

Quite literally

I rang the doorbell

And there you were.

You opened the door

And something changed

Like winter to spring

There you were.

You opened the door

Yet I didn’t walk in

I stood there frozen

Because there you were.

And who was responsible for what I had found?
Was it serendipitous or divine?
An answer to a prayer?
Karma? Destiny?

You were just there.

You opened the door

And I fell to the floor.