Reflection 2.0

I walk past a mirror,
and I stop in my tracks.
I look deep into my own
eyes and see a boy who
does what he can, a boy
making it work, despite
the absence of light.
I look into my eyes and
see a boy looking for
answers to impossible
questions. I am looking
at a boy doing his best
to remedy devastation.
I can’t tell if I am seeing
my own reflection or
that my reflection is
seeing me. I look a few
moments longer, studying
my face and its history.
There is a story to be told
in each smile and frown.
Before I break my gaze,
I remember all my days.
I wave to my reflection
and walk away from
the mirror, knowing
I have nothing to fear.

Frosted Windows

I try to look out the frosted
window. I tilt my head.
I try to see what’s in front
of me. My hands are frozen
to the wheel. I cannot feel
my fingers or toes. I’m running
late on the darkest day.
I stay on the other side of these
frosted windows. I stay strong.
I shake myself awake. I take
my time. I wait out the flurry.
I look out the frosted window
and see no need to hurry.
My vision is blurry. I look
at the rear-view, I see
a younger me. I sit alone
as the snow passes by.
I must find a way home.
The worst thing I can do is try.






The Name Game

Just another name:
More of the same.
A life to be lived.
Chances I take.

To be me is to be
Here. Being myself:
Eager to become.

Death to my ego.
Remember when.
Everyone changes.
And life goes on.
Me? I will, too.





Memory Lane

Today, the car is in cruise control.
I take it slow and go with the flow.
Today, I take a ride down Memory
Lane. I revisit past pain and travel
through time frames: different days.
I unravel. I tear up gravel to navigate
an unknown fate. I carry weight;
I talk to my shadows: old versions
of myself. Sometimes, I ask them
for help – words of advice. Miles
into Memory Lane, I face pain
and embrace joy all the same.
I see old friends of mine the way
they were before I last saw them.
I notice houses I used to live in;
I recognize yards I used to play in.
I begin to see places I have been.
Today, I met with Father Time
and rode down Memory Lane
before any new memories came.



Wasting Away

Days fly, and they don’t
say “hi!” or wave “bye!”
Days fade as memories
are made. No time to be
afraid. The world turns
just how a candle burns.
None of that concerns
me. I try my best to feel
blessed – to digest stress.
I try not to waste away,
but I must have my rest.
Like a car sitting alone
in an empty parking lot:
Sometimes, I’m all I got.
I am the bullet being shot.
Will I hurt or help? Die
or try? Crawl or Fly?
Should I wonder why?
Do I fall or do I rise?
Either way, I wont waste
time easily misplaced.
I choose to face the day
instead of wasting away.