Poems (3 excerpts)
Wildfires
I thought it was the increase in wildfires, trafficÂ
on 17, cost of living were my reasons for wantingÂ
to leave. Maybe it was the pandemic, schools
closing, quarantine. Or cancer and surgery thatÂ
left a scar on your throat. Maybe being isolated
for months as the distance between us simmeredÂ
inside our crumbling stucco house.Â
I think we both knew, we were more than readyÂ
for a change of scenery.Â
Flourishing
Has more to do with faith than ease
not giving up on love as loveÂ
upends every expectation.Â
Holding onto hopeÂ
even as the world despairs.Â
Notice gravity is bothÂ
friend & foe, keeps our toesÂ
on the ground
yet obstacles abound.
Sometimes in my imagination
I’m pushing a boulderÂ
up a steep hill
heaving with all my might.Â
If I stop halfwayÂ
any progress I gain
rolls away.
Anyhow what am IÂ
aiming for? Progress isÂ
always a movingÂ
target.
Staring Down Fear
I used to think my fears were the silly kind, the kindÂ
you’d laugh about at a dinner party, fears like snakesÂ
or swimming in open water with tiger sharks lurkingÂ
down below. Over the years my fears have matured.Â
I fear being alone for too long or walking in thick fogÂ
when the surrounding trees grow surreal. I realize now
I hate the cold late at night and the only warmth you
feel is steam from your own breath. Yet my fears goÂ
deeper than these things, more layered and hard toÂ
grasp on a conscious level. Sometimes I fear my inner-
critic…the voice in my mind. Voices eroding confidenceÂ
that steal my freedom and my joy. Voices deflating self-
worth. Voices fired up even fueled by deep-seatedÂ
insecurities. For reasons I don’t understand I’m relatingÂ
to my grandmother’s story—its devastating sadness.Â
She heard voices and it seemed crazy. Did her conditionÂ
warrant a sentence in a mental institution? SeparatedÂ
from family and society? I’ll never know. It’s tiresomeÂ
hearing the same platitudes. Something I wonder is…
we fear the things we don’t understand about ourselvesÂ
and others, we fear what we might find lurking insideÂ
the rooms of our minds. Those deemed crazy are putÂ
away in a brick building and by a twist of fate the publicÂ
is dealt a pass to not have to really see another’s pain.Â
I’ve been dealt the same pass, look the other way and maskÂ
what ails me. Although I know my wounds give me awayÂ
and I bleed.Â
