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.
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.
I woke up thinking the time on my phone had automatically switched forward. It had not. I spent the first hour or two of my day thinking it was a different time. Fortunately, I realized my phone’s problem when I looked at the time on my computer. Unfortunately, the medication I had meant to take earlier was taken later than expected. My body’s clock was off too, it’s okay.
Lesson learned: you can’t always trust technology has everything figured out before you. Thank god we still have some control on what happens on our small devices, even when it completely messes up your perception of the day for a good five minutes or so.
I laid in my bed for a good forty-five minutes, allowing my eyes to rest. My eyes were screaming at me in silence for pushing them to look up their own without craning my neck up to see a screen that was about twenty feet away from me. Swollen muscles were pulled in directions they didn’t want to go. A fan was blowing air and my phone was blasting the sound of rain in springtime. I was focused on my breathing, hands on my belly as I felt the air drift in and out of my lungs. My eyes eventually calmed, enjoying a moment without needing to stare at anything or completely drift off to sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this still for this long.
I was reading a book I could not put down. I told myself I would read one more chapter three chapters and thirty pages ago. I hadn’t been that into a book in quite some time. I was reminded of why I love telling stories. Those moments where I’m transported into someone’s mind have always been my favorite. The fan was still blowing air.
Emotion washed over me like a wave I didn’t see coming. I couldn’t articulate words correctly because I had a difficult time trying to comprehend this unexpected feeling. It’s like I ran into a wall without looking and now I’m conflicted within myself. It’s difficult to feel something and have no idea how to articulate it. Tears fell from my eyes. These tears were more intense than I’m used to, so I hunched over and cried more. No one understood what was happening, neither did I exactly.
My eyes were screaming at me in silence for crying. So I cried more because pain has no limits when I’ve already unlocked the box of tears. My eyes felt heavy like they’re experiencing dual migraines. I didn’t know this feeling was possible. Maybe it’s not, and I was just overthinking things as I often tend to do.
I had been waiting all day to eat this cookie dough ice cream, and after taking my fifth and final pill of the day, I was slurping it down while finishing a New Yorker article I had slowly been reading for the last couple of days. The springtime rain blasted from my phone once again as I tried to comprehend the words on the page as best I could. Names often bleed together when so many are mentioned in the course of a single section. It’s crazy to read about what people choose to overlook and how things could have been different if someone was brave enough to speak up.
I was reading a chapter of another book before falling asleep. The more I looked at the lines, the words began to float off the page, detaching from the original text to become two. My eyes were done for the day, signaling through a pretty frightful message that I had gone numb to, that whatever was on the page wasn’t worth it. I took off my glasses and turned off the light. I snuggled into my comforter as a horn from a train travels across the night air into my ears as I gave my eyes what they wanted: rest.
Two people share a connection
when their eyes meet.
Everyone who is watching
wonder what could be going on.
Is this fate or planned?
Are what we seeing an illusion
or a true moment?
What is authentic
and what is for the cameras?
People who don't understand acting
can't comprehend what they're seeing
as anything less than true love.
Coincidences are the universe
trying to tell humans the truth
through simple observations.
Keep your eyes open.
“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
As a country, on this day,
we must remember the steps
that have been taken in order
for us to move forward.
No matter how we get there,
we can't move back into the past,
we can't let harmful rhetoric
divide us even more.
They want us to focus
on our differences to the point
where our similiarities don't matter.
What we can bond over
will be the foundation we need
to progress into the future
instead of sinking back
into the past.
Let the markers in time,
fictional entertainment from decades ago,
mirrors in thoughts that predicted
where we are now
be the motivation to continue
working towards a hopeful future.
I watch my cat watch the tv, every time a dog comes on the screen, his pupils get big, I wonder what goes through his mind, what must he be thinking, is the time he fell out the window from the second floor playing in his head, what is a cat’s memory, does he remember the season where he could go outside, can he tell when the night arrives sooner in the day, I try to read his mind, my thoughts come up with options but no conclusions, he will always be a mystery to me, the night is slowly beginning to be pushed back in the day, the new year has flipped forward once more, these thoughts have no home in my head, they come and go in one moment to the next, the ones I captured in this post are ones that come back from long ago, they only appear when I’m grasping for inspiration to write anything, what to write when I have no prompt, nothing to say, avoiding writing something that I’ll give into eventually, I have these thoughts to share with you, the lingering surface thoughts that mask the layered ones, my cat is on the couch beside me, sleeping, afraid of the dog who is staying with us, the dog who encouraged him to fall out the window, with only a small tree to ease his fall, the dog is calm but my cat shakes like a leaf in my arms and hisses at her like he’s facing his worst nightmare when she’s near, he’s purring now, the tv is paused, exhaustion crashes into me like a wave, but I know if I swim now, I will just end up floating on the surface, lost in my thoughts, staring up at the sky that’s fading into the night.
I don’t know why we continually
repeat ourselves as if the people we’re talking to
haven’t already heard a thousand times before.
We’re a broken record on repeat trying
to convince ourselves what we’re saying
must be true because we’re saying them
the exact same way, refusing to put
the words in any other order.
We continue spinning
even when one of us gets dizzy.
What we see and what we know
are two different concepts.
We don’t claim to know anything
but this back and forth is continuing
like one of us will share something
to make this reality stop rotating.
I have nothing to add anymore,
my stutter has gone silent to the listeners
and I’m not even sure why I’m still here
when I know what has led me to the place
where I can forget the time and space
of what is meant to be getting something done.
I’m done running away from what I cannot change,
from what needs to be arranged. I feel like
I’m beginning to go insane. So I’m jumping ship
to free myself from this horrid habit that has
morphed and shifted one too many times.
Leave me be, I’ll find my way without a boat,
just leave me here to float. The rocking of the waves
is a much needed change from the blurred
reality I’ve known too well. I need to trust
in my own vision instead of relying
on another story that has already
been written. I need to create my own
stories instead filling my mind
with speculation of realities that
will only exist in my imagination.