This is where I be.
This is where I’m free:
away from people
and near the sea.
I float away. I cut
all burning ropes.
This is where I be:
caught in-between
being alone
and feeling free.
Like the ocean
breeze, I create
a flow I know,
and I just go.
This is where I be.
This is where I feel
myself. I am me:
just where I need
to be – living
next to the trees.
I’m still here. Death mirrors
all life. I’m still here; fear
has left me. Time has blessed
me. Another year: I’m still here.
Through struggle, I have found
a common ground. I’m bound
to turn around every frown:
to return all stolen crowns.
Here, I am, still finding me,
doing my best to finally see
what it means to sails seas
and to grow tall with trees.
Through all the pain, I start
a journey of learning. I wish
to know all the places to go:
every single place to know.
I’m still here: I plan to live
a life that only I can give.
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.
They stand tall. They shouldn’t fall.
The tall trees started as seeds.
They’ve helped me write and read.
They stand tall, and most of all,
they help all life: big or small.
These tall trees make me drop
to my knees and ask: “Please,
please don’t ever leave” –
I search high and low to know
which direction you will go.
Like a long arm, your branch
points to a dark path.
“That way?” I say as I laugh.
You shake your leaves and make
me believe that I will succeed.
I visited the tall trees and left
feeling euphoric. I was feeling
myself, again. A breeze pushed
me toward a new world.
I thanked the tall trees
for being the strength I need.
I’ve gone fishing. It seems
I’m the only one here.
The water is calm. The air
is still and is filled
with silence – total peace:
total bliss. I’m blessed to see
life changing. Birds fly free
as leaves drop off trees.
I cast my pole and I wait.
I relax and enjoy a break
away from things that take.
My mind isn’t missing;
it has just gone fishing.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 