who

i buried my self
a long time ago
even before you left
a smile
a hug
a “love you”

secure in my shirt pocket
pressed warm
folded in origami fashion
the finger oils
smudged words
linger long

long arrives the scent
settles upon the dainty
face covered by lace
secrets of passion
promptly,
kindly,

-erased.

What Love Really Means

this song jerks tears.
I remember the child at the homeless shelter
and my sister, her husband, he drank himself
to oblivion, dying alone, in an oven called home.
I remember the lady i counseled,
alone with no where to turn,
pregnant and scared,
42, the same age as me.
Her story no one would believe.
I sat amazed, wondering how she had survived
up to this point, nothing seemed right.
Then, i reflect,
“Who will love me for me?”
God stepped in at such a time
I could not believe such love existed.
Forgiveness saving me from hurts,
a roller-coaster of pain and hope.
My brother died at his own hands
my childhood friend,
moments romping in the forest
in awe of such beauty,
stark reminders of innocent times.
A piece of me stands unrecoverable
and the piercing pain still lodged in my heart.
My story continues as I fight
to breath. To find beauty where none exists.
To sing a new song every morning.

Existing

No love lost
where love was absent.
No regrets defining space
you invaded my heart
left exposed to search for love.
Let me be me and not you mother
you never knowing how to care.
Jealousy? Hate? Mother’s
fugitive child soliciting strangers
longings unanswered lying in her lair.
Father where were you
silent as can be?
Never standing for justice.
Your needs too enticing
spreading legs instead of wings.
Confusing interrogations
bogging down the open space
infected. Dark rooms harbor fear
afraid to trust the light.
Blackness lashing out at any sense
of confidence. Pain merely
makes things worse.
God, professing love and peace
distant because of transgression.
No wonder people wish for death!
To escape a world dying
offering no relief even when you promise
a wing to cover me.
Rather there are spirits waging against
the beauty I seek.
These thin threads of hope thrown
tired of waiting, your creation moans.
Just be done with us forever or take your children home.
This too
I’ll get through
throw it to the wind.
I will love again.
I travel miles
searching for that ticket leading somewhere.
If God is waiting
I pray His arms are wide open.