car ride
i’ve never been in a car
where the bass shakes the windows
and the glass tingles
where my hand is cold from the wind
that whips past
and my heart throbs in time to
lyrics that mean nothing
but bring a beat up car
alive
I sit in the bath, and wait for the scalding hot water to make a change.
But it never comes.
Nothing will ever rid me of the excruciating cold you left within my bones.
the stations always smelled like stale cigarette smoke
and you could see the used butts on the concrete floor
grime stuck in the cracks of the yellow or white plastic tiles that
warned you to not fall down to the tracks
there were pidgeons.
all the stations had them
flocks of them
and they’d peck at forgotten bits of food
or those cigarette butts
and all the commuters would just ignore them.
but I was seven and I was bored–
a dangerous combination–,
so of course I saw them and thought,
how can I bother these birds for my entertainment?
I would run towards them, full speed, then come to a quick stop
and I’d watch as the birds scattered and flew away
and reconvened a dozen or so meters away
they thought they were safe
but I’d rush them again
and giggle as they were startled and flapped away
I’d do this over and over, until our train came and we boarded it.
I don’t remember what I’d do on the trains, but
I was probably still thinking about chasing pidgeons.
FINCHES
The finches
have come,
we knew
they would.
In our dreams
they thank us
for all we do
and the food
we provide.
Do they dream
of gratitude
or is the sky enough
and the thistle seeds
and the company
of their kind?
We will never know,
so we watch and admire
their yellow feathers
and hope tomorrow
they will come again.
And that’s just it,
I exist in a world where my favorite flower
Is considered a weed
Coffee is preferred black,
And I am the sugar
Where expectations are met,
And I am coloring outside the lines
A place where too much thinking is a disease
Where the moon controls the waves,
And I’m a sail boat against the tide
Where a shooting star means “make a wish,”
And I am just falling on fire
Observe your surroundings.
Look for possible dangers.
Wear protective gear
to avoid possible injury
or trauma.
Assess the person.
Notice thier breathing
and check for pupil dialation.
If responsive, make sure
they want your attention.
Do not provide care
if the person expresses
resistance to attentiveness.
If conscent is given,
introduce yourself.
Approach calmly, with a
quiet understanding tone.
Provide appropriate comfort
and care to the heart
and mind of the person.
When person demonstrates
responsiveness or appreciation
for your interest in their
well being, continue to
respond respectfully,
maintaining protection of
their heart and mind,
unless conscent is revoked.
KW 6/2/2022
I fell in love,
Literally like,
I tripped over feelings and emotions,
And how kind you are,
To everyone and me,
And your smile,
And the way your fingers tip toe up and down my spine,
I tripped over your accountability,
And ability to
Apologies and extend the same hand of grace to me,
When I’m wrong,
I tripped over the bricks you dismantled from my thick wall,
And how you used them builder a bigger safe space to fit us all,
I tripped over your brilliance,
Your resilience,
Your persistence,
Your patience,
Your passion to use yourself to make a difference,
To become the bridge to get to the other side,
I tripped over how you look at me,
Like I’m the only other existence in the world,
To remind this little girl,
That she is alive,
I tripped,
And I fell in love.
“Are you excited?”
The innocently perky question catches me off guard
Sand of my heart’s desert chokes the “appropriate” response –
A sun-bleached bone of contention shadows my eyes, stagnates my thoughts
Tints the answer I cough out in dull browns, then rash reds.
Not really,
more tired
Tired and true
Too true to mask the malignancy in this moment
Too tired to share my hope to twist the starkness I feel into treasure -a Georgia-worthy gem.
Cabbage butterfly flutters
from purple blossom to blue
Former loathed and hunted
green-horned monster informing
Today’s garden flight patterns
and tomorrow’s landing place
