Day 365 – Finished!

I wrote a lot of poems for this day
but none of them seemed to fit–
I think it will suffice to say
it’s been wild

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, and shared feedback about my year in poetry. It’s finished! I started this journey on the advice of my therapist who encouraged me to start writing again when I felt like I didn’t have it in me anymore. A year of learning and growing has taught me that I do have it and always will. It’s time now to take a break and focus on other creative projects but I’m certain I’ll be back. I can never keep away.

Until next time!

Day 364 – From Start to Finish

From start to finish
I’ve come alive
and it’s worth all the times
I had to die

From start to finish
I wrote the book
each page was worth
all the hits I took

But we know that wasn’t the true start
and we know it’ll never be finished

I’m hanging my boots by the fire
putting my heart back in its box for a while

Letting silence do its job once more

Day 362 – Her

She lives in me–
her voice, her choices
all her tendencies I soaked in
all her mistakes I don’t want to make
I see her face in the mirror
I see her handwriting
coming out of my hands
I hear her barking laugh
coming out of me
and I see her pushing
out of fear–
she taught me that, too
I do it well and
running away seems to be
the thing I thought would fix it
but how could I get away
from her mind in mine?
I am difficult like my mother
but
I will not stay that way
I do remember
I do see, at least,
the difference.

Day 360 – Every Little

Every little girl
I encourage to write,
to be brave, to stand tall
to use her own voice
is me–
I become the beacon of hope
she always needed.

Every little boy
I hug and put band-aids on,
protect from bullies
young and old,
assure that pink is for him too
is you–
I become the great protector
I wish you had.

I can’t go back and save us
but I’ll spend the rest of my life
building a bridge for them
to safely cross the stream.

Day 357 – Jetlag

Took the red-eye down to Grandma

she got me full of that Cuban espresso

Dad’s going 90 all the way back north.

I sleep in fits in the front, she keeps that

conehead dog in the back, he bites most people

but I know that dog likes me. All of my

childhood pets are dead, they buried Jack

in the yard after he got sick and Penny ran

into that wild coyote. Mom got some new cat,

she gave it a name I can’t pronounce, and he’s

no Percy but I guess he’ll have to do. My brothers

speak in different tones than I remember, they

followed suit and went to college after I left—

think I was onto something early and it stuck.

They’re talking Christmas lights tomorrow at

the Roost, my teenage thinking lake, I wonder

how anywhere could hold so much water.

They don’t ask me hard questions, they’re just

happy that I’m here, remodeled the bathroom,

bought new cars, got put on meds, and lost a tooth.

I sip it slowly, the ways we all have changed, the

ways I thought I did, I ran for years, gave up

the thought of having home— but it’s still here.

You can’t lose home— we’ll still play chess

and my Dad will always win and for once I

won’t mind to lose.