my mother collects
my tired smiles
and turns them
into sapphire
she’s an alchemist
of sorts
and a jeweler
and a dressmaker
who specializes
in silver linings
National Poetry Month: Day #11
I fear endings
before they begin
I hate borders
and love edges
like the ocean’s
undefined
and negotiable
I fear beginnings
without endings
the way I fear
quicksand
unforeseen
and betraying
of undue
faith
and I’m trying
to be more
like water
mellow
yet miraculous
National Poetry Month: Day #10
I found my mother
at the doorway
of my bedroom
at noon today
she told me
of a song she learned
at the hospital
that captivated her
and so she chased it
and with the nurses help
was able to catch its name
we listened to that song today
together in my bedroom
at little past noon
and her eyes teared up
at Adele’s mention
of missing her mother
and my eyes glistened
as I thought
of my mother
missing her mother
and the inevitable day
that, I, too
will miss mine
National Poetry Month: Day #9
we each love
in our own voice
with our own songs
and with rhythms
only we know
and those
who’ve been lucky
to be loved by us
we each love
with our own colors
with our own brush strokes
and on canvas
only we know
and those
who’ve been lucky
to be loved by us
we each love
with our own struggles
with our own scars
and with an energy
only we know
and those
who’ve been lucky
to be loved by us
National Poetry Month: Day #8
I remember the day
I realized
my freedom
was my greatest possession
that was the same day
I lost the last
thread of hope
in creating a future
that wasn’t drawn for me
it was when I realized
that the loss of freedom
was merely death
delayed
National Poetry Month: Day #7
if I were a fairy
my magic would be
turning your dreams
into paintings,
covering your ceilings
with those pictures,
making sure
you fall asleep
to the images
of your dreams
and that you wake up
believing
you could reach them
National Poetry Month: Day #6
our bodies
live in homes
of measurable sizes
and travel on wheels
of measurable speed
we see our movements
in physical spaces,
but what ripples
do we make
in another’s mind?
National Poetry Month: Day #5
my carefree years
they passed by
suddenly
but delightfully
like tapas
at my favorite
Spanish restaurant
before I knew it
I was not seven
but seventeen,
a different kind
of naive
a decade
is a lifetime
at certain years,
like how some seconds
are seasons
all on their own
when you’re in awe
National Poetry Month: Day #4
I am seven again
and I’m searching
for the broken record
my parents said
I’d often play
it’s vinyl
ancient
played
a hundred times
by others before me
my record
sat on the dresser
where I’d sit
when confusion
and tears
overpowered me,
where I’d play
the verse
I’d soon memorize
“you don’t love me”
sometimes,
I feel seven again
and love means
never being mad
it means
reading my mind
and synchronizing
your heart
with mine
so please,
when I’m seven again
just remind me
gently
that I’m closer
to twenty-seven
National Poetry Month: Day #3
Contentment
is the shy cousin
of Happiness
when you meet her
you’ll wonder why
she’s rarely spoken of
you’ll find yourself lost
in the slowness
of her breath
in the depth
of her smile,
and you’ll wonder
why she’s rarely spoken of
she doesn’t distract,
her presence
doesn’t erase
your worries
but she soothes
you pain
and leaves you
wondering
why she’s rarely spoken of