i find the quietness i crave
amid the forest’s windy veins
where my mind can be at peace,
where my thoughts vacate with ease.
here my feet become my breath
and my mind one with the earth,
i come to realize my worth:
an atom in the universe.
When I was young,
my mother used to warn me
not to look right into
the Sun: I could damage my
eyes from the
heat.The first time I met you,
I could not look directly
into your eyes; I still
can’t.
I’d never expected
to find the Sun
burning
in them.
We as a species are always trying to find comfort in purpose, as if we need to justify our existence on this planet by having a ‘reason’ for being here. You do not need a purpose or a reason to be alive on this planet. You have a right to be here simply because you are.
Rather than seeking comfort in purpose, find freedom in understanding that you have no purpose, and that is okay. You alone are enough.
my mother asked about you today.
i didn’t know how to explain
that your name
on my tongue is like
novocaine;
that i’ve been waiting so long
for the numbness to
fade.
If we are able to– with a clear conscience– call this Earth our mother while simultaneously abusing, destroying, and killing her, I am truly horrified to imagine how people must treat their earthly mothers.
I haven’t lived long, but I’ve lived long enough to know that closing myself off to the world doesn’t prevent pain; it only postpones it. I am learning to live with my heart off it’s hinges and the door wide open because pain is going to enter regardless. It is better to enjoy the time I have in the sun than waste it worrying about when it’s going to rain.
please please please stop building
these walls just so that you can tell me
i’m crossing the line.
remember when we shared a
womb for nine months?
there were no lines then, just
innocence and warmth. i want
to take you back there.remember when the doctor explained why
you were so small and weak when you were born?
i took
all the nutrients from the placenta.
i took
your strength, and i wish i could
give it back to you now because
i’m scared to see you fall
knowing i cannot do anything to save you.
i want this to be my fault.
i want to take away this
darkness within you and burn it myself
so i cannot watch
you crumble.i wish i could transfuse to you all
i’ve learned from the scars
on my arms and thighs and the heartbreak
i’ve been given and the heartbreak i’ve caused
so that you wouldn’t have to feel it all.
i am standing with my hands up
ready to surrender myself in your place, but
i know i cannot do your time
when the prison is within the walls of your mind.
sometimes
reality is a red chevy 4X4 that
hits you at 103 mph–
windshield crashing
broken glassy
eyes
realizing all you want nearby
is someone to hold you–
sometimes it moves
too fast.
sometimes it leaves you
breathless.
I. i remember how you sat next to me
in the backseat of her car
as it sped down the highway.
we smoked
out of a sparkly pink bowl, watching our cares
disintegrate as we blew
them out the window.
i remember pretending
to look outside so I could watch the way
you collapsed into yourself
as you exhaled your last hit.II. i remember the way you reached for me
in your sleep that night, and
i whispered that i loved you
because i knew you couldn’t hear me.III. i remember the day i saw you
for the last time. i walked you to the bus stop,
waving goodbye long after you had disintegrated
into the horizon.
i sat by the side of the road and
cried because it was then that i realized
you take the happiness you bring me
with you when
you leave.IV. today, i forgot how long the
drive down
that highway becomes without the
anticipation of seeing you
to keep me company.
you cracked me
open
and started reading at
chapter 12.
this was long before i knew you
liked to read the last page before
you started the book.
Silenticel 