The Waterfall and The Wayfarer

I hear your laughter and your whispers

Your joy and your displeasure

Inscrutable on your stony face

As you shed torrents of tears.

I am near but keep my distance

As the strength of your emotion

Is likely to wash me from this world

Should I come close enough to ask.

I see your beauty made raw and fierce

Your outpouring of strength evident

Of a power beyond compare

And so a mystery you shall remain.

Waterfalls and Water Droplets

Water surges over the edge of the rock cliff

A deafening boom as river falls into river

Crashing among the rapids and rocks

As mist rises above the turmoil

Softening the sibling dispute

With a cloak of pale white.

Droplets gather at the edges of fronds

Sliding one by one off the tip

To nurture the secret world

Beneath the giant, green ferns

Where soft moss forms a pillow

For the heavy heart to rest.

Mountain Lake

Indigo stalks wave in the Northern breeze

Dancing and bowing to the lake

Where ripples race across the surface

Reflecting a false instability

Of the mountains of ice and snow

That crown the body of water

With pale gems made flawless

By the forge of the ages.

The Night Is Clear

Walking home from my grandparents' house

Skin soaking up the moonlight

I pass the pond

Stars, pinpoints, reflect on the glassy surface

The frogs along the edges engaged

In a symphony of sound

Ringing in my ears

As the cold air touches my cheek

And caresses my neck

I breathe a sigh

The night is clear.

Open Book

My heart, just like my face,

Is an open book.

Anyone who comes upon it

Is free to take a look.

What my mouth does not say,

My eyes might as well scream.

There is no cover, no disguise

So take things as they seem.

But though I may be vulnerable

Being so open this way

It may save me tomorrow

Though it hurts me today.

Because one day I'll find someone

Who likes just what he reads

And when he puts his book down

He'll still like what he sees.

The Toymaker

In her hands is a ball of clay

She rolls it in her palms

And with her breath, warms it

Making it easier to mold.

With her thumb and index finger

She makes each arm and leg

And with each move deliberate,

She puts it all in place.

The head and neck are the last she adds

With eyes, mouth, nose, and ears

She shapes each one carefully

To see, speak, smell, and hear

Eyes intent on her next step

She smooths the bumps and lines

She's nearly done with all her work

But for the next design.

With thought and love, she takes one more

Piece smaller than the rest

And molds it into a little heart

And puts it on its chest.

Their Flag Flying High

I see my country's flag

Snapping and unfurling above my head

In the light summer breeze

And I wonder,

What do people across the globe feel

When they see their flag flying high?

Many are proud no doubt

Others are fearful perhaps

Or doubtful

Or resigned

Many may feel like "This isn't really mine"

If the country they're in

And the country they belong to

Don't match up.

There might be confusion

Or pain

Or triumph

Or loss

When they look to the sky

And see their flag flying high.

My Mother is a Butterfly

My mother is a butterfly.

Beautiful and fragile

And incredibly important to my way of life.

Her blue eyes sparkle and shimmer

Like gossamer wings

And just as a soft touch can have

A crippling effect

So does the pain of a harsh word

Reflect in her eyes.

She spreads inspiration and fosters hope

Planting and nurturing ideas

So creativity thrives.

My mother is a butterfly.

Here and Now

I dream constantly and consistently

During long silences and pauses

And right before I fall asleep

The beginning is sweet and pulls me in

My eyelids get heavier

And I am dragged deeper

As a conflicts emerges

A battle I must face against my fears

My heart beats faster, my eyes begin to tear

As I realize it's not a dream but a memory

The fear is real but misplaced in time.

I breathe deeply and remind myself

I'm in the here and now

Not the there and then.

Hollow Heart

Giving love to a hollow heart

Is like dropping a coin into a well

In hopes of making a wish

But never hearing it hit the bottom

No splash in the water

No thud against bricks

Just a feeling of dread

As seconds tick by with no resolution

Your wish fades, incomplete

And you're held in suspense

Waiting for the end.

Cradle My Heart

Cradle my heart.

Wrap it in swaddling cloth

And gently hold it close.

Sing to my soul.

Let your voice caress me

And your words heal my aches.

Give me your hand.

Lead me through the night

And never let me go.

A Letter to Dollar Dahlia

Dear Dollar Dahlia,

My childhood was spent in your bloom.

I plucked your purples and pinks

Reds and oranges and yellows

For my mother and for the table

I put your blossoms in my hair

And in the hands of my loved ones

While you climbed the fence in the garden

Bringing pops of color to my grandparents' yard

Where I picked pumpkins and planted corn

Dug through rich black soil for potatoes

And ate berries off the vine.

Dollar Dahlia:

Thank you for your time.

A Loss

Calm, my thoughts.

Be still, my pounding heart.

Dry, my tears.

We cannot help but part.

Steady, my hands.

Be strong, my soul.

Breathe, my lungs.

One day I'll fill the hole.