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.

Eyes of Fire

I look in the mirror and I see 
eyes of fire staring back at me. 
I feel warmth burn from within. 
There’s a fire creating heat 
that forces me to my feet. 
The ice in my veins melts away 
the second I head on my way. 
In the mirror, I see flames 
become untamed. When I turn 
around, nothing is the same. 
My eyes of fire ignite my sight. 
These eyes of fire feel right.

No need

No need to be caught up

when you can catch up.

No need to feel angry

when you are happy.

No need to stress out

when nothing is happening.

No need to reveal a frown

when the world’s upside down.

No need to drop heavy tears

when you think of past years.

No need to stare at the clock

when time is taking a walk.

No need to blast the past

when the future comes fast.

No need to be hard on yourself

when you can ask for help.

No need to quit the fight

when the finish is in sight.

Paradise

It takes a special kind
of eyes to look around
and notice a paradise.
We don’t think twice
to worry or dwell on
all of the small things.
We are used to the sun,
so, when the sky rains,
we focus on our pain.
Rarely, do we let go
of the past that has
a stranglehold on us.
We choose to take
the bus instead of
taking a long walk.
There is beauty in
the things and people
we find ugly. It looks
bad if we’re judging.
Open your eyes and see
a world above and below
your feet. Seek new life
in the scope of your sight.
Create the life and love
you desperately need.
Kill that voice inside
your head – kill him
dead. Seek refuge beside
those joining you on
this wild ride. Remove
the veil covering your
eyes, open wide and see
life as a fleeting paradise.


Below the Surface

He was observed: made from scratch.
He was seen scratching away
at the surface: the stubborn dirt.
He scratched long into the day.
He wanted to reach the hurt.
Not before long, the day was gone.
He found nothing here, so he
scratched there. He couldn’t see
as he scratched deep into the night.
The sun came up, and he looked
down and said: “I can make some-
thing from all the stuff I found.”
Tired and dirty, he walked home
with stuff that can never be shown.
He was happy to have dug below
the surface: a place only he knows.