Three Feet Tall

11.14.16

Hand in hand
How long have you remembered me?
We are as we always were
Inseparable
Striped shirts and black pants
I love you, my best twin!
Golden child.
Eager to love.
You know what to do when I am leaving.
Make the goodbye quick so it will be okay.
Cherish the days together.
I’ll remember falling asleep next to you.
Company is love’s messenger
Side by side-
I am happy
I am so happy.
Glowing heart I know,
How long I have remembered you.
Grateful that you remember me too.

View of Clouds

11.11.16

Mountain curves
Thick fluffy swirls of white
Cuddling as lovers do
Fingers tracing the rising elevation
Until just a wisp remains
Green giants peaking through
Swimming in the clouds
Overtaken
Can the pilot see?
Peak atmosphere, 25,000 ft.
It’s fun to watch people turn to ants.
It’s sunnier up here too.

If I stepped outside this plane I would fall.
A sport one day I might explore.
Propelling flesh
In the direction of gravity.

Deflected

2.16.16

Hours pass and my life, ambitions, duties slip by.
Absorbed as they wish us to be
I am running in a wheel.
Circles of information pouring into me
I have not chosen yet
Deflected, I open the door for you,
Silent.

Focus and simplicity.
Do not share your life.
Choose what you put your energy towards.
Find comfort with the slowness.

Sunset in Venice

12.23.15

Pianist strumming the prink faces
Gazing at her silhouette as they pass
Palm trees and people
Anxious minds
Voices mute

Black slacks and purple baseball T
Hands swift
Confident yet gentle
Is this art?
A common question for a materialistic mind.

Tell me something about myself.
Tell me something I already know.

(going through old journals and documenting poetry!)

Surfing a New Tongue

My tongue is adjusting to new sounds again as I try the language of this land upon my lips. I approach a group of women in Burkas. “Assalamaleikum,” I say. How much I’ve become in these years. Hands of mine, my art is my body, my heart, my life. The opposite of creation is destruction. I remind myself to create. Demons of my heart resurface. I must look around to remember how small this self is.

Hello from Sri Lanka. I have been traveling for as long as I can remember it seems. Two years has flown by. Some how I still have a floor of cash under my feet, and somehow still have a home to return to, with a community that remembers my name. I don’t remember what it’s like not to play.

If you ask me what I love, I’d tell you language. The way people’s lips reflect their mother toungue. The bond a few words can bring. I love the bridges words can create or crush.

I’d tell you that I love the feeling of watching the Earth move under my feet. I’d describe to you the wind that crashes into your eardrums and drowns out your shouts. I’d tell you that the ground below the open door of a moving train looks too blury to make out, but as the foreground falls away, each layer of a landscape moves slower and slower. I’d describe watching the seasons stay the same, as I chase the spin of the world. I could even brag that I know how to control the weather. But it’s only through the power of these legs of mine. Yours could have that power too I suppose. Common, haven’t you ever wished for an endless summer?

A memory of sitting in the backyard of my childhood home. Summer time freedom thrilled me and taunted me the same. I spent the days with joy, yet eagerly awaited school to return. I missed being busy. I missed having something to do. I missed the friends I hadn’t seen.

Sometimes I wonder if we really ever change at all. How much of our human hearts are with us all our lives? This girl of my oldest memories is no stranger to me. My body has grown and my freedom with it, but my hopes and emotions are the same. What does this endless summer do to a mind?

If you asked me what I was afraid of, I’d tell you that I’m afraid of tomorrow. I’d describe to you the deep emptiness I avoid in myself. I’d look at the ground and maybe tell you the truth. Maybe I’d whisper the questions I’m afraid of. I’ve come so far, but the thing about circles are, there isn’t ever a stopping point.

I sit 50 meters from the beach. I’m volunteering at a hostel that feeds me, entertains me, and gives me shelter. I’ve spent the last days swirling in the crystal ocean, waves beating at my sides, in awe of it all. I’ve been alone and I wonder if I’ll always be alone.

I will apply to graduate school. I will apply to jobs. I have a resume. I am a desirable employee. I am worth something. I have value. I am alive. I will not die.

One’self

Residual anguish
Familiar blood on tongue
taste the clench and grind of teeth.

To be in a body
is to be in a cage.
Stuck behind the bars of pupils
and skin
Reeking of memory.

Deeds cannot be undone
These hands have touched poison
and I still let them touch my lips.

Who’s That?

Sweet soul bedside
beside, my side, all sides.
Fluttering eyes.
What would it be to watch you from afar?
I wouldn’t know.
When I look at you,
Our eyes always meet.
Heart strong, heart strung.
Pulping, beating, breathing.
Locked in symmetry
Yet I see every thought,
waves so suddle in your eyes.
Salt stings my tongue.
It’s hard to look at you.
How lucky am I to feel.
I will not be afraid-
to remember you-
to see you-
to know you-