Reassembled

August 11, 2017

They pack up boxes,
Reexamine items,
Shift through old and unused,
Label parcels to ship, recycle, discard
Reexamine their lives,
And how and where to take the next step,
They give away items,
To friends who remain behind,
Friends who see them off,
Friends who wish them well,
Friends who keep pieces of them to remind,
remember the love of their friends
Who have reassembled their lives,
South, North, and West coast.

Sorry.

November 28, 2016

I am sorry,
for my forthcoming,
for my audacity
At the wrong times
my delayed boldness
sometimes,
always,
gets the best of me.
When for me
answers are finally clear
I sometimes overlook the
Other 7.5 billion people here.

I am sorry.
I am not quite sure
what I had expected.
I did not mean to intrude.
There was a reason
I avoided
indulging
these thoughts,
hopes, memories.

I am sorry.
I respect,
As you did,
I do and will respect
as much for you.
Freeman,
I now know
how much is at stake
When sand slips
An entire decade away

I am sorry.
though before
what was written
still holds true.
I am sorry for my
selfishness.
You are a more noble man
Than I.

I am sorry.
May your hearts be full,
And love surrounding;
Healing,
Happiness,
Meaning,
Purpose,
Peace,
because.

Remembering “Who I Am”

August 3, 2017
A song I have not heard
For years,
First few chords
And suddenly I am
15 again,
Ambitious and terrified,
Mapping me,
Experimenting in identity apothecary,
Blazing trails as if
I am fearless,
What a facade!
And memories are bittersweet
As I hear the song,
Boldly crooning,
Unapologetically,
Love of “Who I Am”

Disappearing

July 31, 2017

Fear in insanity
Made her make precautionary paths
Then erase footsteps behind her
Made her fear
Plots in every thing
Worst intentions everywhere
Her disappearing act
Complete
She bleached herself
From existence
No tracks left
To realize
Everything she feared
Was internal
And was eating her alive
Trying to understand what went wrong
She finds rare forgotten pieces of herself now

Vicarious Summer Discovery

July 26, 2017

Cushion of soft, warm grass underfoot,
Fiery lick of sun upon skin,
Subtle scent of windblown fields,
Wind whispers through forest greens,
Distant roar of running motors,
Background chirp of busied birds,
And the vocal squeak and groan of children’s swings,

She vicariously relives
forgotten childhood memories,
Via her daughter’s green gaze
Of a midsummer wonderland