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
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
C. S. Lewis had it right, in grief “the same leg is cut off time after time.” You hop through life for a while. The pain is acute. You’re in agony. Then, in months or years, the sharp crippling pain … Continue reading
Don’t pack away your imagination with your childhood toys. Play with it daily. Don’t keep it in storage. – Don’t set your imagination on a shelf that’s out of sight. Don’t toss it into your junk drawer. Or segregate it … Continue reading
I can always fall asleep by the beach. The song of the waves Is a convincing lullaby to me. The soft sand holds me like warm arms. Instead of a pillow, My eyes rest upon the clouds. I can always … Continue reading
Rain quenches the thirst of the earth. Falling like promises. Saturating the dirt. Rain is an invitation to play. To jump in puddles. To leap. To wade. Rain is like a second chance. Cleansing every surface. Making life fresh. Rainy … Continue reading
I know what depression is like. It visits me now and again—always showing up unannounced like a presumptuous friend. Depression is like turning a corner and finding an abyss. It’s like realizing the path you were following has completely vanished. … Continue reading
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.
Consider the beauty of the night, as you lay tucked in beneath a navy blanket of sky. Study the stars—too numerous to count. A vast celestial army advancing across the dark front. Abundant enough to overwhelm the eyes, but deferring … Continue reading