May 29

I Believe

I believe in you. No,
I don't believe
it'll be easy.
I believe this life will be hard and
sometimes you'll want to
collapse on the ground, give in and let it hit you.
But I believe you can get through it standing

I believe in you. No, I don't believe
you can make it through life
doing what they think you should do,
doing what they tell you.
I believe you can defy them all,
make your own path,
blow them away just by
being yourself.

I believe in you. No,
I don't believe you can
walk your path and
manage to stay standing.
I believe that you can go higher than that.
You can soar.

I believe in you. I believe
you can ride the wave of life,
let it swirl around you, beautiful and dangerous,
dark and light. I believe
you can hold on, make it to the end,
and come out
May 24
poem 4 comments challenge: Fearless


She stands there, shaking,
ribbons of fear
wrapping around her,
encircling her wrists, marking them with
red as they tighten.
She panics.
She could let the fear envelop her, succumb to its wishes,
pretend they're really fancy ribbons,
a luxury, not a limit,
pretend there's nothing wrong, yes, but that would only
be giving up.
She could do what they tell her to do,
rip those ribbons off and
leave them in a pile by her feet, but she knows it's
no use.
No one can really
leave fear behind, she knows. Those ribbons will
come back in the end, they always will.
So instead of giving up, and
instead of
trying to rid herself of fear, she takes those ribbons
ties them in her hair, so
they fly loose and free
in the wind.
Her wind.
The wind she makes, because she is stronger than those ribbons.
They aren't gone forever, but
May 21


My dog stands
at the top of the stairs,
Does he stay up here or leave
for the floor below? He
doesn’t know,
won’t budge,
so many reasons
for why he should stay,
just as many
for why he should go.

How many people
are like him?
Fork in the road,
no way to choose
either way
a loss,
either way
missing something?
How many people are
afraid to make the wrong choice,
equally afraid to make the right one?

He settles down
two stairs from the top,
neither up nor down,
lying there,
not very comfortable,
still knowing he’ll have to choose.
Upstairs or down?

How many people
wish they could be both,
two things at once,
leaving neither behind, taking the
best of both worlds?
How many people
wish decisions
didn’t exist,
wish it wasn’t so hard
to choose?

Finally, my dog
May 19
poem 0 comments challenge: Go

Go Home

I just want to go home.
No, not only this
house that I eat in
and sleep in every night,
not only the place I live in, spend my time in.
No, I want to go to a home with a kitchen table, yes,
me and my parents
laughing and talking and eating good food,
but also to a home with
a messy blue locker in an empty hallway,
just me and my friends, alone,
because we're late for lunch,
laughing and touching surfaces
that everyone touches.
To a home with
a playground--back when school
had a playground and
recess wasn't optional,
to a swingset with us ten-year-olds,
swinging and singing at
the top of our lungs,
not a single care in the world.
To a home with endless hugs and high-fives,
a home with parties and concerts and
farmers' markets where we'd always
run into someone we knew,
running across the street, ringing the doorbell,
May 18

open window evenings

These are open window evenings.
Leaning against the screen,
watching the dusk happenings.
Flowers quiver in a gentle breeze that
flows softly through the screen,
bursting with color
though the twilight soon swallows it,
because night's on its way.

Birds chirp, their music
bringing calm
the only soundtrack I want to listen to now
the only song that fits this moment:
an open window evening
watching the dusky scene:
night's on its way.

Far above, the sky
unimaginable colors
who knew orange could fade
into blue like that?
Except it's not just blue,
it's that dusky specialty:
robin's-egg, turquoise, and white-gray blended together
in a way only the sky can show
when night's on its way.

Nature is close,
but far, too,
because I am only in my dining room,
window wide open, but screen keeping me in
and when I leave my spot to write,
May 18

What my chromebook told me

I am the way you communicate.
I am the thread that keeps you
connected to the outside world.
I am the way you write,
my keys always serving your fingers.
I am the way you
do nearly everything you need to do.
The way you do school.
The way you check your email.
The way you relax, by pulling up
something fun.
Every day you gobble up my services.
Every day you give me orders.
More and more and more.
But it's not enough.
Your fingers tap in frustration as you wait for me to
wake up in the mornings. (I'll be nice, and forget to mention
that you yourself pleaded for
an extra 15 minutes in bed.)
You think I'm slow.
Low quality.
I think you're impatient.
You don't care that
I do everything you ask,
take for granted
the way you can count on me,
the way you know
that I'll always be there,
May 15


May 14

Not Here.

Somewhere, there's a locker
brimming with a sea of things,
papers and binders someone tried to keep neat (but not very hard,
because it's not quite chaos, but it's not far from it, either.)
Somewhere a student
turns the lock swiftly, because then, that was how it always went.
Every day, three numbers, opening to the mess inside.
Not here.
Here, a locker sits empty and neglected,
its only inhabitants an extra graph-paper notebook and
the decorations on the door, because it was told the student
would be back.
Only a few weeks. (Untrue.)

Somewhere, there's a calendar
bustling with black pen,
a concert here, a meeting there,
things to do and things to see,
because then, there were places to go and people to go there,
and no fear.
Not here.
Here, the calendar is occupied with Zooms for work,
Zooms for school,
May 12


School is, well, school.
School is something that will make you want to scream sometimes.
Or cry, or just wish you could
go home already.
School is another weight to carry, heavier than a backpack full of
books and binders and notebooks
(although school comes with that, too, as a bonus).

But school is school, and that means that it's fun, too,
and there are friends
and there are teachers and classmates
and things to learn and things to do and things to laugh at
and school is something that, maybe, someday,
you'll miss. A lot.
(Especially if you have to do it from home for 3 months because of a pandemic. But anyway.)

School is an opportunity, and maybe that sounds like
it's golden and shiny, and it's not, but
school is not only what school gives you,
but what you make of it, too, and so, please,
make something good.
Don't you dare be
mean, or
May 10

For the Tulips in My Yard That Haven't Yet Bloomed

Yes, it's okay
to take your time, to
wait to come out
'till you're ready. But
don't let yourself think that
you're not ready yet, that
now is not the time
to open up and
show yourself. No,
it is your time, now.

Don't feel like
you don't make a difference,
because your colorful petals
make people's days. You
bring a little brightness
to their worlds with your blooms.

Don't believe that
you have to keep yourself in,
thoughts, emotions,
contained in a tight bud. No,
let yourself show, because
just by being true to yourself,
unleashing the you that you are,
you can make someone smile.

Don't think it's not worth it. Don't worry
if the harsh wind blows, because
you are strong.
You don't have to bow to it, you don't have to
succumb and be the droopy flower it wants you to be.
Because why be a droopy flower,
or a bud,