As Weightless As Water

As a child I feared its depths
wondering what creature might seep in
through the tiny cracks of filters

And then, with inflatable help,
my daddy taught me to swim
and float on the cooling surface

I learned to live in the bubbles,
surprise splashes and explore corners
where bright pink goggles took me

The unnatural blue felt like freedom
like I was a bouncing astronaut
and the water my untouched moon

And I matured in an over sized rectangle
with every handstand and each dive
I learned to trust weightlessness.

The Porch View

Craving the trees

and the crest of leaves

and the alarms of birds' songs

Like the bread and butter

I need

to sustain daily life

Is it in a southerner's blood

to feel alive

rocking on an open porch?

Or is it that

when the open air is gone

for a long time

You suffocate without

breathing it in?

Suns set, pines fall,

and the sky is a daily masterpiece

no artist can recreate

And we find these things

set before us

every minute

But smog covers our view

and says "It is like

any other day.

You have more important

things to do."

While the heart,

the artist's soul,

says, "Oh no.

I painted these hues

just for you...

So you would sit

and find nothing

but breathing to do."

Monsters

The monsters in my closet

At eight years old

Surely have followed me

Into my twenties

Bringing with them scarier costumes

And graver consequences

For believing their power

My fears have followed me

But so has my spirit

Strength

Strength should not be measured
by weight or appearance
nor by how much we withstand

Strength is more
knowing full well
what lies ahead
experiencing the disasters
of the world
listening to the words
spoken against you
And standing in the midst
feet planted
into the concrete
raising your gaze
from the ground

To see what is ahead
to see what is good

That takes strength

Death of Moammar Gadhafi

I was so struck and intrigued by the images I saw of people lining up to see Moammar Gadhafi's body in Libya, so I decided to put myself in the line and try to feel what these people might have been feeling.

Death of Moammar Gadhafi

Standing body to body

in a line of hundreds

maybe thousands

curved and legged like a caterpillar

slowly stepping

one limb at a time

toward a victory, a reward

to prey upon

We are victims and now we victimize him

to take our place

to take our scars

If only we could see his lifeless, bruised body

then we could feel free

In line, we wait anxiously

for death to turn into life

Words

Here are two poems about the lovely topic of words. Enjoy!

1.

Words: I love and hate

For they hold power over me

to encourage and to destroy

to bring greatest joy

and to give greatest hate

tugging me onto either podium

happiness or hatred

I have given words this value

by putting them on such a level

that they define and evaluate

too much, of what is my value

2.

Words so many days

are too much

on our tongue, clinging to minds

that won't let them free

Is it just me or

do some words lodge into our being

while others float by

uninvited and unnoticed

Who determines what

we will remember

what stabs our ignorance and

what we say that's never heard

Maybe it's clearer

when we turn off our mouths

and find the words that fell away

Seasons

I looked up and saw what had fallen upon us

In the changing of trees

The saturated colors of death

So many days we carried the heat

On the sweat beads of our backs

Waiting for wind’s relief

And so many steps I wanted to go back

To where I was before the seasons

Ran so quickly and left me behind

But the words of the wise lifted my arms

And pushed my heart in front

Leading blindly but forward

And now my tired eyes awaken

To how nature works its ways

And births something more beautiful than pain