Pieces of the human soul become blended
like potions in a cauldron. The body
houses a soul once whole. Like a puzzle,
pieces of the past stick to new memories.
Love is the glue that holds together
parts of my heart once severed. Days
go on: the present becomes the past. Life
slows down only when we do. It’s true;
the glass we look through is fragmented:
a mosaic of sorts. Lines often blur. Things
don’t seem to fit. There’s a growing list.
You will be okay. Do as you once wished.
My life is full of experiences
that I would never trade.
If I were to go to the other
side, I would likely hide.
I couldn’t imagine being
anyone else. I could never
trade places or put on
new faces. Where I am at
is where I want to be.
At times, the grass does
seem greener, yet I know
there’s more grass to grow.
To be here is good for me.
I love the air that I breathe.
I envision a life I now see.
I don’t doubt what I believe.
I have faith in my taste.
I won’t waste the space
that occupies my place.
I enjoy my life as it is.
I would never swap it.
There’s too much I’d miss.
As life goes on, things can get in the way.
There are roadblocks, people, problems
that slow us down. We can even get in our own
way. It is hard to say how it happens. It just
does. Sometimes, we can get stuck in the mud.
Sometimes, we choose hate over love. Stuff
can pile up, and life can become a pain.
Once we regain strength, all we have to do
is maintain. To fight through is to gain insight.
The odds may be against us, but we must
trust the process. We must do our best
when things get in the way. These strong
feelings of doubt will not stay. We must
not run away. We must solve the case
before our optimism becomes misplaced.
When life gets in the way, don’t give up
or give in. You will get over it. Look at
your life as a knife that will cut through
a dark night. Find light and hold on tight.
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.
As I sit on this bench, I can’t
help to notice my hotdog is
getting wet. Rain falls relentlessly
from the sky. Each drop dances
in solitude, enduring a new
opportunity to spread faith
and love in new life. Dark clouds
loom from above. I can’t help
to do nothing but sacrifice
the inner voice that destroys
all grace. At peace, I look up
and I don’t see catastrophe.
I see a forgiving sky wanting
to be remembered, crying to be
cherished. As I continue to sit,
I don’t stress a bit. Wet hotdog
and all, my worries remain small.
Lightning strikes the trashcan
next to me. Flabbergasted, diverse
feelings course through my body,
reaching my soul: my fulcrum.
I sit on this bench; I remain calm
Trust me, that’s no taradiddle.
I may be stuck in the middle,
but this poignant pain helps
me see rain as draining pain.
The dark skies help me realize
that life will shine its bright light
during the darkest of nights.
I don’t forget that my dog is wet.
It could be worse; I could be dead.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 