She looked into her eyes staring back at her from the mirror and with a genuine smile on her face said “I love you.” That was the moment she knew that she had found true love.
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Growth
Half-Baked Innocence
Today I smiled at the thought of deserts consuming entire cities.
It’s not up to you to fix what you did not break. It’s not up to you to chase what does not want to be followed nor to lose your peace for those with no peace in their hearts.
What you’re meant to do is to live well and freely without shackles imposed on you by others. You are meant to cut the threads connecting their words to your head so that you may think truly without their hidden agendas influencing your actions.
You don’t deserve a half-baked innocence.
Enduring
From where enters your strength, your will to live? It reminded of how battered and bruised I have been. A memory of black clouds coming down onto me haunts my head and I had hoped that I had healed that trauma, but they asked me: where does that strength come from? There were no good answers to that question. Perhaps it was this ancestral DNA or my mother’s mitochondrial DNA that let me live though the struggle. How ungrateful I must seem, to have that survivor’s will and to hate the act of having to survive. She must look at me with disdain or maybe with pity at knowing that her scars are inscribed into my genetic makeup too.
Why have you stayed? I am asked this question, not in so many words. Sadly, no responses escape because I hold the gates tightly shut for fear of being seen as the fool. Who could have thought that this would be the woman striving to bear the fruits of my labor—so hindered by a simple soul?
Wishing for Rain
I don’t take drastic measures, they must seem that way. I only take measures to reach what I hope to achieve. Last year I learned when I should cut back the ill growth of this fragrant rose bush that I am trying to cultivate. I have already learned this year when to let go of leaves that are meant to fall. For the greater good, I make choices because there is no point in holding on to thinly dangling foliage. I have also been in the process of learning how to fertilize and in learning when it is necessary to cut back excessive growth–My roots dig in deeper into this rich soil. It is all love in this horizon; it’s just that love sometimes might hurt a little in some places. I hope I have the willpower to heed the words of the wise and the courage to stand alone as I cultivate this Golden Celebration.
Intertwined
Recalling nights when the gentlest of hands tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear. When lips softly touched porcelain skin with care to not smudge, with care to not break and I knew what it was to love.
The silk of words that ran down my spine left me reminders that I was once yours and you were once mine. We walked hand in hand to the cherry blossoms and laid one another down onto dewy grass and crisp air that woke us from the trance we had been in prior.
In unison we could breathe in filling the lungs of each other in ways that the spring breeze could not. You were my Buddhist and I your lotus flower and together we laid our souls bare with love at that hour.
What the Pressure Creates
Baby, you are a whirlwind. You are a shiny pinwheel representing youth and innocence. Did you ever imagine that you would recreate yourself again and again? Are there traces left of her and if so, in which deepest parts of you do you house her?
Now songs are no longer meant for lovers, they’re your words which hold you within their syllables. You are now a naturally molded piece of obsidian—from heat and fury you shine pitch black. Nothing has ever been more gorgeous.
Sometimes Poems Are Meant to Be Whispered
She was drowning for so long like a fish out of water choking on the gases in the atmosphere
So she learned how to swim through the buildings and she creeped through the cracks.
I was always a fish not quite belonging in that or the other sea
Yet I could always see me and my scales that reflected everything but never absorbed.
So I rode that underwater wave or ripple or have at it whatever you wish
Until I became lost at its ending to swim back but more slowly this time.
I numbed my fins to everything around me and only saw from eyes sideways as I squirmed
Here and there to get a better view—damn how I felt that view in my cartilage.
Never enough grown or graceful enough for mermaids to whom Triton instilled an internal compass
But I knew that if I followed the moon she would bless me with her radiance
I was a reflection of her who was herself a reflection of a burning sun
So brightly in her white glow that she only took from something else.
Like moon like fish following currents and orbits and reflecting existence in ways unimaginable to so many eyes.
