The man hit a wall. He struggled to juggle
the trouble that came his way. He tried
and tried. He was close to giving up.
He finally said “enough is enough”
He sucked it up. He toughened up.
The man got back on the horse.
He was back on course. He opened
a new door. Yeah, the man hit a wall,
but he hit his second wind. He pushed
through and did what he had to do.
He knew it would be hard, but he did
not stop. The man will never stop
until he rises, again, to the top.
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.
Some days are gray days.
Dark clouds. Heavy rain.
No umbrella can help
us stay dry. Some days,
gray days fade to blue.
Most days, raindrops fall
turning seeds into trees.
Some days, the breeze
reminds us of the cold
world we occupy. We try
to get through the gray
days. On the worst days,
we find ways to follow
the light that pierces
the darkness. We have
seen many gray days.
We know it to be tough
when smooth becomes
rough. We know that
life has its ups, downs,
and roundabouts. Life
is full of green grass,
blue skies, gray days
and we are full of life.
Look past the haze;
do not let gray days
take the sunshine away.
I see flowers growing
down the road. I see
them shooting through
the concrete. Under
my feet isn’t a street;
it’s a dirt road only
the roughest feet know.
I hear birds chirping
down the road. I see
the sun shoot rays
down the road. Now,
I stay in place, as I
take up space. I see
what could possibly be
in front of me. Down
the road is where I’ll go.
I don’t know what you know.
I do know that I don’t know
what you have gone through.
You don’t know what I know.
Many don’t know how roses
grow out of concrete. I don’t
know how some people stay
on their feet. Some do know
how broken hearts can glow.
Most don’t know that it gets
much better. Life can change
much like the weather. We
don’t know that we can be
free. I don’t know exactly
when all will be well, but I
can tell that it will be soon.
Just like the suns and moons:
the forks and spoons; we live
knowing we need each other.
I know life is hard – unfair,
but to know that you care
helps me learn to be aware.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 