You Bottled The Wind

You tried to bottle the wind.

For a moment,

You succeeded.

You tied an anchor to the vessel.

You threw her to the sea.

But as the pressure built around her,

and the chains rusted,

She saw freedom in the depths.

When the glass finally burst

She rushed back to the surface

To rejoin the sky.

You Held Me

at my lowest

most vulnerable

ugliest moment

you picked me up

 

when I was naked

shaking with terror

wrapped with shame

you held me close

 

when all others would have abandoned me in that pit of jagged rocks

you carried me out

you kept my burdens as your own

 

my soul can dance

with incandescent freedom

unshackled

at my lowest

most vulnerable

ugliest moment

you picked me up

 

Lost Girl

I am just a lost girl

I circle the same forest path

I carry the same tattered knapsack

filled to the brim with rocks

each looking like loaves of bread

but turning to bibles in the hand

to remind me why I’m starving

each fiending for a sinless grasp

aiming for the bullseyes

that mark my leper’s soul

Illuminating Love

You are the harsh light of the sun

broken by prisms,

cascading into a thousand fractured rainbows

across my soul.

You illuminate all that I am

in the soft glow of translucent color.

Could I stand to search the deepest

shadows of my heart without that loving glow?

No!

And so,

Alight on me with you dream like love.

Show me all that I am, in your eyes.

And, perhaps, I will see myself as you do,

and be happy.

The Way It Feels: Part 1

it’s like sweat dripping

no

pouring

drowning you

like ocean waves

in the very hottest moments of summer

you.

feel.

every.

second.

like clocks ticking

every clock ticking

amilliontickingclocks.

amilliontickingclockssurroundingyouspinningallaroundyou

ticktickticking

your face feels hot-

from the sweating?

NO

that can’t be right

you’re shaking

you’re freezing cold

why are you so cold?

it’s so hot

 you’re sweating

no

you must be cold

you’re shaking

you must be cold

 

your heart is choking the breath from your throat

it beats off time from the ticking clocks

somehow

that’s worse

your mind doesn’t know what to listen too

but

someone punched you in the stomach

you’re heaving

but the vomit

can’t.

make it.

past.

your heart.

so you lay on the floor

your burning face against the cool flat surface

the world tilting

while you shake from cold

your heart beating so fast

and so hard

you feel like you’re dying

you must be dying

your stomach heaves against your protesting body

this is what dying feels like

you must be dying

you can’t breathe your gasping against your hulking misplaced heart while the darkness closes in starting from your peripherals and fading to the center

you gasp

and heave

and clutch your sides

on the cool floor

your face hot

sweating

your body shaking cold

 

 

 

The Hidden Heart: A Poem

Dear, sweet, Heart,

I see you there,

staring from behind that thick curtain,

behind that bullet proof window,

in that house of brick and steal you built around yourself.

 

Dear, sweet, Heart,

please, just go to the door,

open the top latch,

and then the chain,

and the dead bolt,

and the second dead bolt,

on the steal door you’re barricaded behind.

 

Dear, sweet, Heart,

open that door to me.

Let a small crack of light fall against you,

feel just the tiniest breeze of my love.

 

Dear, sweet, Heart,

open that door to me.

Seattle: A Poem

The further you travel from downtown

the more interesting the shops you’ll find.

But this should come as no surprise,

the measure of wealth falls with the skyline.

 The rent is lower there.

As you travel, don’t worry;

if you ignore the homeless,

while they talk to themselves,

 pressed against tall building sides,

they’ll start to blend in.

And a curious thing will happen;

you’ll lose your humanity (not them).

In this part of town, you’ll notice

there’s a stronger smell of weed.

We all escape how we can.

I’m sure, in the tall glass towers,

with their stirring views,

and unknowable privilege,

the rich escape their gilded prisons too;

the scent of freedom as high as they.

Does the whole world live this way?