I look up and breathe.
Both my eyes close
as I exhale. I see you
take a breath after
I take mine. The air
between us thickens.
The energy flowing
means that tension
is growing. The air
between you and I
forms an invisible
wall – one too small
to see through. The air
between us dances
back and forth.
Recycled over again,
the air between us
is more than a gust.
The air between us
knocks off the rust.
It shakes off the dust.
I look up and breathe.
I smile and take in
the air that we share.
Lately, I’ve been thinking
about pirate ships sinking.
I’ve been thinking of ways
to be spending my days.
Lately, I’ve been thinking
about those not blinking.
I’ve been thinking of you
and the stuff we used to do.
Lately, I’ve been thinking
about my future and what
it holds. I’ve been thinking
of what I have done right
or wrong. I’ve been thinking
of ways to become better.
Lately, I’ve been thinking
of how things used to be.
I’ve been thinking about life
and how days became nights.
Now, I’m thinking that it will
be fine. I’ve been thinking
that I must take the time
to feel alright and to be kind.
My eyes are windows,
and my mouth is
a door I slam shut
here and there.
My feet are floorboards.
My body is the house
that my mind powers.
I live here; I try to keep
it nice. I have my own
back. It supports me.
My arms reach out
to my neighbors.
My soul lives inside
the air that we share.
My heart hides beside
lungs that breathe
and preach peace.
My eyes are windows
to an unknown world.
Are you ready to go
to a place only I know?
Callaced and rough, tough
skin cuts when touched.
Tough skin worn by men.
Holding axes, shovels, and
tools makes you tough.
Sometimes, it is enough.
Other times, the man hides
behind his tough skin.
It is not manly to be soft.
Have you heard this before?
Women can’t be tough.
It is not womanly to chop
down a tree. Women must
plant seeds. Who says I can’t
be soft? I am tired of being
tough. I think men should be
sensitive, too. All men’s tears
should water the seeds, while
women tear weeds. We must
break free from norms and
set forms that used to be.
We can be tough, rough, soft,
or hard. We can live together
with our skin and talk about
the places we have been.
This butterfly is blind, but he flew just fine.
Around and around, this butterfly went.
Without his vision, the butterfly listened.
The other butterflies didn’t know their
friend was blind – nonetheless – they all knew
he was blessed. His blindness helped him
hear sounds and noises close and far.
He could almost see sounds that were lost
and tossed out. The blind butterfly loved
his life and never felt the need to feel
bad for himself. He didn’t know what
he didn’t know, and luckily for him,
he didn’t know where he’s been.
He just flew, breathed, and weaved
through the air that was shared
by butterflies like himself. He liked
himself, as we all should. The blind
butterfly didn’t need to see other
butterflies to know he wasn’t alone.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 