Weeping Willows

She sings
at night when
no one can hear her.

She sings

of her heart that was

taken by the moon &

turned into a North star.

She sings

of the North Star that

no matter how hard she

tries to follow, 

she still ends

up getting lost.

She sings

of her broken compass &

her lost ambition.

She sings

at night when no one

can hear her because 

at least this way she

knows that the

expectation of being

listened to by anyone

around is null & void.

She sings

as a reminder that she

does have a very

beautiful voice.

She sings

at night. She cries during

the day. Her tears

glistening on her cheeks.

The sunlight turns her

tears into art like

scraps of paper for a

vision board; turns the

teary art into words; she

then turns those words

into lyrics, she’ll sing in

her next nightly concert.

She sings

at night when no one can hear her.

Chesire Cat

When she smiled
it was not her.

The top of her cheek

matched the bottom

of her eyes.

You weren’t seeing her;

you were seeing the 

tip of the iceberg

as it proceeded to melt;

you were seeing what

her silence couldn’t hide.

The Cheshire cat smiled

so she did not cry.

This world

called her hurt

has declawed her &

counted her as defeated,

but her words

are like talons.

When she smiled,

it was not her.

It wasn’t even what

was left of her,

because society

has killed that off too.

It was by force.

It was all force,

because this life

didn’t allow her to smile

to be natural,

but forced to be painted on

in correction ink, red &

to;d her to go on &

she did so.

Dreamcatcher

sometimes I wonder
where my dreams originate. I wonder why
they appear in more reruns
instead of new episodes.
sometimes I wonder
if rebirth is real
which past life is
passing this dream down
to me & what am I
supposed to learn from
having it. Wondering
if there is a mission
that only someone
from this line of lives
could be able to do.
sometimes, I wonder
how a dream catcher
work, if they catch
the dream like a baseball mitt
catching a dream like a baseball
or if a dream catcher is more like a filter of sorts
like a water filter
making sure that with all
the dreams that are
there to be caught in
the near & far are meant
for me, are cohesive &
doesn’t contain sensitive information.
sometimes I wonder
where my dreams
originate from. I wonder
why I’m the person who
ends up having them.
I wonder. I dream. I write.

Scary Shadow

I don’t look behind me

when the sun shines on me.

I fear that the shadow has

actualized enough to

form a face.

I don’t worry if she

has a voice.

I know that even 

if she doesn’t

my mind will

make one up for her

giving her words

like kryptonite

that’ll defeat me.

I stopped being scared

of this shadow of mine,

given her a name &

sapped a task

to her schedule.

Shadows have hands too,

they have a body,

they too have a purpose &

even not assigned

to her directly,

then why not

give her some that

were assigned to me?

Something more than

just being my shadow.

Blessed in Shambles

I can’t explain it, but
I’m blessed
in even shambles.

I take pride i

being able to snatch

moisture from the ground

beneath my feet,

turning even the 

mightiest of solid grounds

into a drought-ridden

dessert land,

turning even the 

grandest stone

into mere pebbles.

Blessed is the shambles for

if they were whole

they wouldn’t need Him.

A Letter to Her Own

 Hey there,

You know you were very quiet. No, it’s not because you didn’t have a decision in the matter; you were only doing what you thought was right. People tried to correct you, but you naively took it as they were trying to pull you a stray. You’re a good girl, who wished to do no wrong & feared speaking up or speaking at all if not spoken to or if it was speaking against something or someone was wrong & disrupting peace. Little did you know little one while you were doing so you were distorting & disrupting your own peace.  But here, after all this time, here is your permission to speak your mind & to do so without having to raise your hand. Don’t be shy. Go on, the floor is all yours little one. Speak up & do it confidently because you have things to say.  You might not know it yet, but you have people to say it to & they will be all ears. Keep your journal full of stories. One day you’ll have the space to be able to share them.