Resist

Resist the urge to be mean

to yourself. Love yourself.

Be yourself. Tell those voices

to be nice, and don’t think

twice about silencing sounds,

words, or comments that bring

you down. You are amazing.

You are great. You are different.

You are meant to be special.

You are all the world needs.

Resist the urge to be the same.

You are rare. Uniqueness must

remain. Feel alive and well.

You still have stories to tell.

Don’t give in to bad thoughts.

Resist. Time can’t be bought.

Being yourself can’t be taught.

those eyes

When I look into those eyes,

what I see is no surprise.

Those eyes can’t tell lies.

They tell me a story of love,

pain, power, sunshine, rain.

Words can’t do justice. Looking

at you gives me a chance to

stop and think about my life.

I see all the places you’ve been:

all the tight spots you’re in.

The things you have seen

reveal themselves in real time.

Those eyes know that the sun

still shines. All of your misery

will eventually become history.

Those eyes are windows into

your soul, and your soul glistens,

as my ears learn to listen. Often,

I see those eyes invite mine

to an unspoken conversation.

They talk in ways the mouth can’t.

They tell me I can overcome

any situation. Without hesitation,

those eyes show me a new world:

a world lonely, lovely, and magical.

I get lost in those eyes. They reassure

that unpredictable things will occur.

When I see those eyes, I stop. I stare.

Deep down, I see someone who cares.

if these hands could talk

If these hands could talk, they wouldn’t stop.
They would tell you stories of the past.
These hands would teach you lessons
of hard work and perseverance. These hands
would just because they could. All the scars,
callasses, bruises, and creases show others
that life is a long, winding road that eventually
ends. I can’t pretend that it has been easy.
But, if it were easy, what would it teach me?
These hands would tell you that it will be
okay. You will move on and see a new day.
If these hands could talk, you would understand
that I have gone to war, but came out alive.
Yes, these hands would tell you that I survived.
In this life, these hands have been wet, burned,
bloodied, hurt, and disregarded. But these hands
would tell you that we are just getting started.
If these hands could talk, they would scream:
“Hold me as I long for touch and acceptance”.
They would talk just to talk just like feet walk.

Hindsight

What was I thinking?

I’m not even sure that

I know the answer to

that question. Did I ever

mention that, no matter,

the intention, thoughts

become suspended? Days

of my past mix together.

Former ideas whirl around

like a reverberating sound.

I couldn’t tell you what I was

thinking. All I know is what

I was feeling. Hindsight is 20/20.

Some days were bad even when

it was sunny. I look back before

walking through the next door.

Under the Hood

Look under the hood
before you ride.
Discover what drives
you. Cars with dents
and dings still run.
Being an older car
takes you just as far.
Every car is different.
Some cars are new.
Others just make do.
Different builds, colors,
and interiors show
us not one single car
is superior. Stop.
Pop the hood and
get a good look.
If you can tell that
all is well, then go
faster. Drive further.
Change the oil,
buckle up, and hit
the gas. No need to
make it last because
in the end, whether
we were slow or fast,
we crash or get passed.