Posted in life, Poetry

Lost Contacts

Yesterday, I scrolled through my phone

looking for a number

because I thought I’d call someone for Father’s Day –

and then saw my grandma’s number

when I tapped on the contact;

Her face smiled back at me…

I wished I could really call her –

but I knew

that if anyone was on the other end,

it wouldn’t be her,

and that hurt so much

I forgot why I

picked up the phone

in the first place.

…I still can’t bring myself to delete her number.


22 June 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


I adopted “klutz” and “clumsy”

into my lexicon

long ago when I actually believed

I was prone to

tripping, falling, teetering.

I’m now starting to see

that it’s hard to keep


when always being

pulled in every different direction

except the one you want to go in.

Walking a tightrope is dangerous

when it’s wrapped around your neck.


21 June 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Thoughts and Ruminations

Nothing’s Wrong

Today’s lunch:

coffee with a

tequila chaser

and a side of

meditative reflection…

Doing my best to cope;

But honestly, I hate

this state

of being –

Coping is no way of life,

I should be living as I breathe –

freely, and without thinking about it.

There are many who no longer own this luxury.

Being even more honest,

I never gave myself

the time and grace to mourn

my grandmother’s passing.

[Has it really only been a month and a half?]

And now we have a nation

shrouded in grief,

who’s also tired

and also hurting…

My sorrow no longer belongs to me;

Not when

Modern day lynching permeates our airwaves,

diminishes our vibrations –

looped almost daily, discussed hourly

for sensationalized effect.

Why can’t there ever be

just one day

where everything is peaceful,

and nothing’s wrong

like we already pretend

it isn’t?

Posted in life, love, Poetry, Random


I pressed my soul somewhere
between the pages
of this book,
Like the most delicate of flora
we seek to preserve –
It’s a favorite of mine.

I wrote the stories
of my heart
into its chapters
the ink’s bled deep
into its fibers…

I can recite every word
from memory
and recall
my favorite phrases and passages;
Sometimes with laughter
other times with tears.

But it means nothing to you,
my horcrux,
because when you open it,
the pages are blank
and dry
and you don’t understand
the entire universe you’re missing out on
by not reading between
the lines you can’t see.

My book of light
doesn’t shine very brightly
in the fog –
it’s only a beacon
that burns away the darkness within
The shadows I vanquished long ago.

You’ll remain illiterate
if you obscure yourself in
the fading light
of others’ daydreams…
Misgivings always haunt
our nightmares.

Didn’t you know
reading in the dark
is bad for your eyes?

Posted in life, Poetry, Thoughts and Ruminations


Writing a date –
a task so simple as
printing numbers or letters
to mark a day in time,
reminds me that
fleetingly, I got to hold
a finite fragment
of a passing moment
long enough
to create a memory…

Without memory,
there’s no history;
Without history,
no legacy –

No legacy, no peace (of mind),
the greatest peace comes from
knowledge of self
and origins.
All the pieces of our soul
come from the pathways
of generation
our bloodlines paved through
time and space…

Writing a date
is a moment of reverence;
Cursive my homage to it
The action alone
indelibly weaving
part of me
directly onto the tapestry
of time.

Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth


I just sit
and allow myself to feel deeply
the emotional agitation
and pain and sorrow
that I absorb
from others
as I progress through my days
and allow to blend
with my own…
And I
hurt for every soul
who knows and endures
such agony…
Then I release it screaming
to the edges of the universe
tearing rifts into the cosmos
I imagine it
leaving trails of healing warmth
in its blustery wakes
as it leaves.
I take on every soul-shredding
letting it all crash over me
endlessly, violently, tirelessly
until it subsides
and there is no more –
of it to take, of me to give.
All is calm.
For the briefest of moments
I am vulnerable, exposed;
In the leftover shallows
between infinity ย and continuum,
I am no longer weak;
I elevate a little more,
I transmute.