Where I’m Going

Hardly, I know where I’m going.

Really, there’s no way of knowing.

The choices I’ve made have led me

to this very moment. The places

I’ve traveled to taught me that

there is no going back. Moving

forward while carrying a sword,

I inch closer toward a new world.

In this life there are no guarantees,

just new people to meet and new

places to see. Where I’m going, there

must be no regrets. I’ll move on

as time resets. Tomorrow, I’ll have

a better idea of where I’m going.

I’ll show up there with a past

still glowing. With rivers flowing

and flowers growing, I’ll show up

with bruises and cuts proving that

truly living takes guts. Time to see

where life will take me. Time to

grow older trying something new.

Spit Against the Wind

Don’t fight the feeling. Embrace emotions.

Face the pain. Feel the rain. Become

a warrior of life. Tap into your mental.

Life isn’t a rental. You own it. Show

your true colors. Be yourself. Don’t

pretend to be someone else. Help

yourself to this beautiful life. Buy

yourself flowers. Take April showers.

Rid yourself of the masks you wear.

Don’t care what others think. Sink

or swim. The rise and fall. Feel it

all. Don’t run away or escape. You

can be a hero without a cape. Face

your fears and embrace the tears.

Enjoy the struggle. Stand on the rubble.

Pulling Petals

Days pass by, and the petals

fly. In a glorious garden, life

slows down; I can now zero

in on sounds that have yet

to be heard. I look around.

I see vibrant colors and shapes.

Without thought, birds and bees

survey the land. Abundant motion

surrounds a restless soul. I see

trees dance above a strong ground.

Coexisting with each other, all forms

of life carry on with no concern.

Not asking to be born, I learn to ask

how to live a life without keeping

track of all that I lack. I ask flowers

what it feels like to be pulled, planted,

cut, watered, and given away. I pluck

a flower in the midst of April showers,

and I begin pulling petals. One by one,

under the justified sun, I start pulling

petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.

Asking questions that go unanswered.

After another question, the flower

was naked, missing its petals. Because

of my questioning, the flower’s beauty

is missing. I destroyed something due

to me not believing. I knew that my

doubt washed all the beauty out.

I lay the flower stem on the dirt,

and I realize my questions did

nothing but cause pain and hurt.

Frozen Roses

It can be a cold world.
I don’t have to tell you
that. We know this.
Events, people, places
can stop us in our tracks.
It can get chilly. Life can
freeze almost all things:
just not time. Not this
time. We must carry
the warmth needed
to keep us heated.
We must survive this
snowstorm that keeps
most frozen. Pedals
from your frozen roses
remind me to find truth –
to remain warm: alive.
Your frozen roses remind
me to search and find
love I have left behind.

Her Island

She’s happy on her island.
She has made it her own.
She has more than shown.
Her love supplies the sky
with sunlight. Her eyes
see a life she wants: life
by the sea. Who can
blame her? She is free
on her island. The plants
are healthy. The animals
are healthy, too. She made
the island that way. Life
thrives on her island
and I wanted to visit.
I swam across the water.
I arrived. I looked around
to find her. Not after long,
I ran into a dog that led me
to her – to you. I found you.
I thank you for letting me
on your island. I will stay
for as long as you want me.
We can sit on the beach,
with the sea within reach.