The Heroine

A mother births hope for our future.

She woke up feeling off-centered and nauseous

Knowing what she had for us and sacrificing

Her body to give.

Her partner senses her discomfort and asks her how she feels.

He is aware of his presence within her but cannot

Fully grasp her sensations.

He holds her,

He watches and listens,

But she is not able to find a comparison to the pain.

Her other children are not present for this moment,

But they will be by her and their father’s side in awe

When they witness the whole of her strength.

 

Soon, they will all know:

A mother holds all answers in her womb.

A mother births time.

What We Carry.

you are the color purple.

a sense of royalty, you know,

i walk taller

not in your shadow,

but in your secrets and whispers

we share in crowded places.

inside jokes inside our own

house of energy,

gracefully avoiding

other’s air of

anxiety and miscommunication.

 

when i was six years old i wanted to be indiana jones, an individual savior. only i to live in the praise and glory of the accomplishments i risked my life for. i was an only child, selfishly avoiding commitment and long term love. i was a cowboy, a spy, a villain, a traveler, in order to not thrive too close to anyone. i grew up tough, but not rough enough to grind empathy out of my character traits. i feel you, my partner. are you willing to stroll off into the sun with me?

 

i am the gold.

and so is everything i touch.

we are golden.

 

December 30, 2016.

I Don’t Look At Your Hair.

Okay?

Okay,

Sometimes

When you are in front

And your behind faces me,

I do.

I catch a glimpse

But I swear

All I do is remember

How short it was… when we first met.

It was neater then,

I could see your last re-twist.

I look now

And I can point out the history,

Your memories in the thick strands.

But I do not stare.

I swear,

I just glance because

Then you look at me in the eyes.

I look deeper.

I decide if I want you in or not

I stare

Past the gates.

I choose you for more than your hair.

 

October, 2016

Signal Hill, CA.

My Hair.

I keep it up and covered.

“Why?”:

I keep her protected.

She is new like a baby

But I know her past life-

So many have laid grounds in her.

They set up shop and cabins

Where they raised families

And chopped firewood and

Fed their children my stories

And secrets and

They fabricated them and and and

On top of my head sat

Heat-damaged lying mouths and breath.

So now she is new.

I hold her near me.

Maybe now another start will not be necessary.

The stories she holds are truths

And when she grows older her armour

Will be of love and light

And she will give,

And house no one.

 

October, 2016

Signal Hill, CA.