When I finally felt brave enough for my voice to be heard,
poetry poured out of me.
I’ve always written for others in my professional work,
but writing poetry is for me. And when I share my poetry, it is for you.
A New Day
Birdsong ushers in daybreak,
Light beams sweep corners
Once dormant with darkness.
Dawn bestows hope for an unsettled heart
Trust in the unknown
Of what has yet to be written.
Faith in the unfolding
Magic of morning.
Surprises and delights
To quell our fears,
Soothe what ails us,
To begin anew.
Nightfall stirs a storm.
A steady hum of rain showers meets the roof,
The room aglow with lightning strikes.
The thirsty earth drinks from the sky.
Tree leaves dripping, heavy and glistening.
Humidity blankets the land,
Rays of morning light stream through moist air.
Paper thin flower petals survive another day,
Bees sip from pools of blossom nectar,
Round plump tomatoes hang from angular arms,
Each day a new bloom.
From spacious mornings to sprawling afternoons,
Our rhythm slows,
We abide to nature.
Rolling into long sweaty evenings,
Sun lowering, warmth remains.
The buzz of cicadas vibrates the airwaves,
Dusk lingers in the pink sky.
The following poem is in response to Roe v. Wade being overturned.
It’s okay to scream in silent terror
At the injustice of no right to choose and
No privilege to escape.
It’s okay to let your heart howl with rage
At the catastrophe of what is.
It’s okay to lament the powers
Who dictate the farce of freedom.
It’s okay to feel crushed by the weight
Of a failed system of misogyny and racism.
It’s okay to tumble into the hopeless well of despair and
Rest in the darkness.
It’s okay to surrender
To the fury of feeling powerless.
It’s okay to allow the dissent to rise and
To transmute the inequity into action.
For what is intended to divide and destroy,
Shall only unite women to protect one another
In the shared sisterhood of knowing
Our bodies are ours and ours alone.
It’s okay to resist.
A Creative Life
Honor the curious,
Pursue the fantasy.
Create for the sake of creating.
Explore and experiment,
One part imagination to one part magic,
Expression from the inside out.
Adapt. Transmute. Evolve.
Your hands and heart as the vessel,
Allow the art to take form,
To flow through you and with you.
Dare to call yourself an artist.
‘Tis a life well lived,
Just As I Am
Life was teaching me
To bow to my shadows
Like I bow to my light.
To open to my darkness
With less thinking
And more feeling.
To open to all parts of me.
To meet myself just as I am.