Stitches

My clothes have looked ripped,
torn, and haggard from the day
I was born. I didn’t think they
were worn down until they were
handed down. Despite the dirt,
I saw clearly. I got clothes yearly
at Goodwill, thrift stores: clearly.
I have fallen, tripped, and ripped
my clothes. It’s the way it goes.
Instead of feeling bad for myself,
I slowly got up looking for help.
It didn’t take long before I found
a queen without the silly crown.
She was happy to show me around.
Within days, I learned how to sew.
With learning to sew, I learned how
to heal. Each time I fall, I recall many
lessons that lessen the hurt and pain.
When I fall, I know my wounds will
heal and my clothes can be stitched.
When there is nothing left but love,
that’s when my life’s been enriched.

It’s Cold Outside

Damn, it’s cold.
Icy as hell.
Well, Icy as
the North Pole.
Brrr. It’s cold
outside. I feel
my bones ache
with each step.
My nose turns
red. My head
will freeze
as it hits
a chilly breeze.
Shivers erupt
as I shake
the hot chocolate
inside the
foam cup
I’m holding.
Damn, it’s cold
outside. A good
time to stay
inside. I’ll stay
near a fire-
place with
a lit-up face.
It’s where I
need to be.
It’s warmth
I desire.

Sacrificial Salvation

Much has been sacrificed
for you to find salvation.
Hope salvaged in savages.
Salvation comes at the end
of work and sacrifice. Ice
melts as the fire stays lit.
The ground that you walk
on is no place to sit. Foot –
prints remind you to look
behind you and remember
how fires start from ember.
Sanity, time, and stability
has been sacrificed just for
us to play nice – to be nice.
The life we choose to live
has been a gift from those
who did nothing but give.
Life can be given, taken,
and mistaken. Sacrifice
what you must and trust
you find your salvation,
so those after us can do
the same to fan the flame.



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.

Gears

Oh dear, there are gears
in between my ears.
They grind everyday.
I remind myself
that my own gears
need no help to turn
or to burn. Sometimes,
I can hear my gears
grind away. Sometimes,
I can feel the steel
become hot. I am
surprised smoke is not
coming from my eyes.
These gears turn . I don’t
have any concerns.
They will always turn,
no matter the year.