Day 181: Galaxies of Words
∴
Sometimes it’s harder to be talking
and saying nothing.
·
I think I’d rather be silent,
and float in the galaxy of real words
between us.
∴
Day 180: Lullaby
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i have a song for you
i sing it in the evening
when lights are low
and the sky is scented with smoke
from the hearth of homes nearby
it’s a distant, simple tune
and i don’t always get it right
but it reminds me of good moments
that pass in time
and then pass again in the mind
and i smile through the sound
the wonderful thing about a lullaby
is how quiet it can be
it’s a whispered melody
yet the weight of it’s air
is heavy on the ear
as it lulls you
it loves you
away from the burdens
away from the day
away from the work
that takes your time away
and puts everything
back in order
like mercury
returning to itself
i have this song for you
and i sing it sweetly
can you hear?
∴
Day 179: New Light
∴
there is a new light inside me
i no longer need moons to remind me
of how close you are
you are
there is a new star above me
telling me that you love me
no matter how far
you’re not ever
far
how long until we meet again?
how long ago has that hold been?
no, none of that matters now
it’s time told in memory
it’s as real as i will ever be
it’s you, right here, inside of me
as grand as the moon in her galaxy
you too,
live here
larger than life,
and full of new light
∴
Day 178: Piñata
∴
when a heart breaks,
it’s sort of like a piñata
there’s a loud crack
and you know,
it’s painful
to be split open like that
but with all the tears and groans
spilling out of you
so too flows the candy
the good, sweet, hidden treasure
that you’ve been holding secretly
for eons,
kind of suspecting
it might not be worth sharing,
anyway.
but there it is,
and i,
for one,
prefer sweet centers
to flimsy shells
and look at all the colors there are inside us…
so, i’ve stopped begrudging the kid with the bat;
he couldn’t see what he was doing,
anyway.
∴
Day 177: Books For Kids
Sometimes, you just want to shake things up.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my traditional love stories and those classic fairy tales. I go back home with Austen, I adventure with Kipling, and thrive on the genuine simple goodness of Alcott and Wilder. But every once in a while I step into the current century; and I’d like to bring my kids along for the ride.
Given my current mulling of mind (and reflecting on the #metoo campaign), I decided to change up the “Children’s Lit” section in my house.
For my daughter, a little inspirational bedtime reading:
And for my sons, a little perspective:
The cool thing is, they’ve all read each one cover to cover, and are starting over again.
Books. I love ‘em.
Worlds are changed at the turning of a page.
Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls, is by Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo
Strong is the New Pretty, is by Kate T. Parker
Day 176: I’ve Got You
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Sometimes you just need to hear,
“I’ve got you,”
even if it’s not possible
to ever really be “had.”
“Spin, and I’ll steady you.
Jump, and I’ll catch.
Run and I’ll follow
the speed of your dash.”
What beautiful creatures we are when we’re two.
You improve me.
and I enhance you.
They’re fleeting, these dances,
wherein we bare weight
and lean on each other
and strengthen our state;
so spin with me,
jump with me,
dance with me,
run.
Today,
in my heart,
I’ve got you.
∴
Day 175: Dear Me Too
Dear #MeToo,
I’ve been thinking ‘bout you.
I’m late to the party, please accept my apology;
but you remind me of things I keep locked, deep inside a’ me.
I just said to myself, “it’s the way of the world.”
but your solidarity has my silence unfurled.
See, strength (up till now) has been “take it in stride.”
Just march past the fear that he planted inside.
Those fight or flight moments are years gone by –
(I wanna) stop throwing punches to shadows at night.
It’s just the way things are,
it’s just the way things are,
a little more time should cover that scar…
But look what you’ve done, #MeToo, see what you’ve started;
you’re giving a voice to the hidden stouthearted.
I know six more #MeToos who choose not to come forward
and to them I give nod, but let’s put light in their corners:
things are not always “the way things are;”
both women and men are raising this bar.
This isn’t a war cry, this isn’t attack;
this is making safe spaces where safety has lacked.
Let’s make our eyes wider but not harden the heart.
Let’s see what it is so what can be can start.
Just see us, just look, we’ll earn our own merit.
There’s more than meat under our skins, man, I swear it.
Here come our daughters, they’re coming of age.
Let’s change up their script and let’s reset their stage.
Here come our sons, they’re learning the rules;
but the gaze of their fathers will be the real schools.
(#MeToo), you wrote chapter one
and the pages have turned.
But let’s write the last line:
say,
“that’s the way things were.”
Day 174: Tsunamis
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the thing with tsunamis is,
you can’t see them coming.
you don’t know they’re there
until they’re there
and what raft can carry the weight of a person
on such a turbulent wave?
wherever the rift first occurred –
the break in a floor
unseen
somewhere in deep blue –
this break
did jostle the waters
so deeply
that they rose from the underside up
and out
onto whatever beaches it could find.
·
so it is with us.
breaks can happen deep
and quietly
and without sound
and without sight
but they roll
oh, how they roll
like tremors in our spines
felling our steps like toothpick trees against it’s force
and crushing our courage like canopies on sandy shores
so it is with us.
that we should stop aiming to find fissures
and predict faults,
that we should stop bottling oceans
and building deeper dikes
but rather
learn to surf
and be ready to ride.
∴
Day 171: The Skill of Swimming
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i never meant to leave
but there was a breeze
and my skirts
were swept up by the tide
i didn’t think islands
were fortressed and firm
so i nourished my swimming skills
secretly, inside
·
and the waves are stirring now
·
this love in me
rages,
like salted whirlpools
and tempestuous sprays
with no where to go but
up
when it hits those staunch juts
of rock.
·
island mine
i claim and find
and stake it
home for good
come and build
in rain and wind
new castles in the sand
and there upon
the precious beach
of hope in you
i
silent,
waiting,
stand.
∴
Day 170: The Home in Me
∴
there is a home in me
and if you’re looking for the key
start with simple love songs, please.
they’d be sung with the eye
and delivered to my ear
gently,
at the palm of your hand.
i am no puzzle
i am no maze
i unlock and unhinge
at honest gaze
when we look to see
see what we are
see what we’re not
see all that we have
when we set aside want.
see the blemish
see the scar
see the beauty
that is who we are
this is a home
that cannot be owned
this is a wealth
that cannot be loaned
just see me
as i see you
without the works
or the things we do
and let us sing love songs
to open the other
let us wait at locked doors
and know
there is a home in there
and the key
the key
is sweet
and
simple.
∴
