I Want to Be Your Ocean

I want to be your favorite shirt. Not the shirt you wear like a mask to all those starched stiff occasions in life where you feel like a person playing the part of yourself as an adult. I want to … Continue reading

In Solitude

I think solitude may have been my first friend—the first companion I grew comfortable with. Comfortable like that tee shirt or pair of pajama pants you’ve worn so soft and thin it’s almost not there. Comfortable like cozy under the … Continue reading

If You Are

If you are the night’s sky, I am the distant star.

If you are the mighty mountain, I am the chiseled rock.

If you are the long winter, I am the flake of snow.

If you are the raging river, I am the flooded shore.

 

If you are the lush forest, I am the seed of faith.

If you are the promise, I am she who waits.

If you’re the vibrant sunset, I’m the breath that is held.

If you’re the destination, I’m the tentative step.

 

If you are the orchard at harvest, I am the ripening plum.

If you are the safe haven, I’m the refugee who comes.

If you are forever, I’ll release the hands of the clock.

When yours is the heart that is broken, I’ll be the tear that drops.

 

Note: This poem was inspired by Octavio Paz’s “Motion” as translated by Eliot Weinberger.

 

Spring Is a Triumph

 

Hopes, Needs & Wants

If spring were a metaphor, it would mean hope and possibility. It reminds me that the harsher things (like winter’s biting winds) are temporary.

Spring proves new things are possible. That apparent death can yield life. That branches which look hard and barren today can bear downy blossoms almost overnight.

When I need hope, I look to spring. Teeming with assertions of life, it is the season of new and renewed things. Touching us with warmer weather like a loving hand. Bringing us outdoors again as it thaws the land.

If spring were a simile, she’d be like a generous friend. Offering the perfume of aromatic blooms and their lavish hues. Giving the subtle lengthening of days. Dulling the chill in the air and producing hydrating rain.

If spring had a song, it would be the birds’ morning melodies. And the percussion would be the sound of raindrops hitting everything.

I have love for all the seasons, but I’m especially fond of spring. It is full of meaningful metaphors and inspiring similes.

Spring is a triumph of life. It’s like seeing the world reborn. It’s a love letter to the living. However harsh the winter, spring will always come.

Tulips