The Purple Tulip

The purple tulip arrived a week ago
and will not leave. I glare at it through
a mirror reflection, trying to comprehend
how it might have appeared at this time
eight days ago. No one warned me
I would receive a tulip. Everyone I ask
doesn't seem to have an answer on
where it came from or why it's here.
The bright purple faded a bit within
a few hours of appearing. The purple
stem now has some red in it. It's too soon
to say what this plant is or if it means
anything at all.

The Beauty of Spring

Rebirth

The earth is alive again,
the smells of recently bloomed flowers
linger thru the afternoon air.
It will fade by summer,
but at this moment, they're wild.
Reminder

Life never sits still,
it's constantly moving, whether you like it or not.
It's our jobs as humans are to evolve with the times.
Move forward instead of back,
focusing on the past will only repeat history.
Learn from their mistakes instead of making them again.
Reflect

Smile as the sun sets later in the day.
The colors on earth and in the sky reflect hope.
Hope that change will come one day.
Hope that things won't stay the same.
Admire the beauty, keep moving forward.

Before I Say Hello

Before I say hello,
I acknowledge
to myself
what will happen. 
I will stutter. 
Sometime throughout 
the string of words 
that will flow
out of my mouth, 
there will be a bump.
It’s inevitable. 
This is okay. 
A bump 
or two 
of three
won’t kill my flow. 
A big bump 
that causes me 
to use a trick 
won’t stop me 
from speaking. 
What’s important 
is that I share 
my thoughts. 
I speak for
my voice,
my voice
does not 
speak for me.
I continue to learn 
how to navigate 
the strong waters 
when there’s an uptick 
in my stutter. 
How I approach 
conversations has shifted.
I have gained
an awareness
I never could 
have predicted.
I still say 
what I want 
but I may not 
ramble on the way 
I once did 
when I was comfortable 
with the stutter I knew.
For things have shifted
and that’s okay,
It’s apart of stuttering,
nothing is certain.

Time is My Only Healer

"We will just wait," my doctor reassures me at the end of another long visit.

The limited resources I have to aid my symptoms 
cause more damage than improvement.

So I accept what I cannot change
and wait for change to occur.

I just got my vision back after months of fuzziness,
oh what it's like to see clearly, such a wonderful thing.

With new glasses, my vision is close to what it was
before it drifted away without saying goodbye.

I accept this knowing my vision will likely shift
once again within the next few months.

As I wait for time to go by, I thank modern medicine
for relieving me from my personal hell for the moment.

These obstacles I face have no solution or cure,
the only thing I have on my side is time.

In time, this disease will pass thru my body
and one day it will become a memory.

There's no telling when that will happen,
every person who has this is completely different.

One year, two years, will eventually
blend together in my depths of my mind.

A Poem About Nothing

Spring has arrived along with the remnants of winter.
Snow one day, seventy degrees the next.
You never know what you're going to get.
The grass is greener as bees fly
and house cats beg to come back inside.
Days are longer, thoughts are shorter.
Everything looks different upon reflection.
Awareness changes thoughts and perspective,
for once I can look at my interactions without judgment.
The keys on a new keyboard are the best present I could ask for.
Smooth and shiny while working together
without pause or hesitation of a key falling off.
My dry eyes make things coming closer appear
like the wizards from Harry Potter, out of focus
and then all of a sudden clear as crystal.

Right Before It Starts

I’m in a familiar place in uncharted waters
People are arriving but I don’t know why.
I park the car I’m driving and look to see if I’m in the space.
Moments later as I walk away, more cars appear,
filling the empty spaces around me.

I walk into a room backstage, someplace I do not know.
A man walks up to me and it’s clear I know him.
I’m not who I know myself to be. I’m someone else.
This is true by how I walk and hold myself up.

I watch people walk in and out of random doors.
I hear people speak but I can’t understand words.
I pace back and forth on a red carpet.
I’m impatiently waiting, mindlessly anticipating 
walking thru a red curtain. 

For what? I will never know.

Power

Poetry that flows like water so natural 
as though it was always meant to be.

I wrote this when listening
to a poet release a poem into the universe.

They were speaking with ease and grace
yet the power of their words spoke 

high volumes to those of us who listened.
Their poem held truths about life

that allowed the soul to breathe.
Not allowing fear to shatter

your future or prevent you from
revealing the depths of your mind

to those who are willing to listen.
Failure is the part of understanding

what you're capable of accomplishing.
Motivation comes from the most

unlikely places and unexpected situations.
Riddles reveal secrets without

saying anything in particular.
The power of poetry lingered

in the newly spring air
as the sky faded into night.