Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Where I’m From

Something I wrote using the "Where I'm From," a poem by George Ella Lyon, as a template.

Where I'm From

I’m from empty grocery bags from Walmart and being disposable.

I’m from the beautiful chaos of a blended family.

I’m from the mountains, the darkness, the stars that only show up when all light disappears.

I’m from the creativity of the Sutphins, the tenacity of the Freemans, and names recorded in police records instead of bibles.

I am from mistakes and misunderstandings but never giving up.

From, “It’s our little secret” and a God who didn’t see me.

I’m from the Appalachians, soup beans, cornbread, and hobo packs.

From the one time we tied fish to our feet for shoes and other crazy stories we joked about to keep from crying about the truth.

I’m from photos piled in bags left on sidewalks with the trash sorted through in desperation looking for home.

I’m from yesterday, a constant longing for everydays, and dreams of tomorrow.

Tuesday, December 07, 2021

His Name is Stephen

His name is Stephen.
He is kind,
Curious and brave,
He draws her out of her hiding place.
His name is Stephen,
and it seems he has found keys
to doors and places
buried so deeply within her,
she had forgotten they even existed.
His name is Stephen
and he makes her smile,
and laugh,
and her eyes dance.
His name is Stephen
he makes yesterday irrelevant,
today lovely,
and tomorrow hopeful.
Her name is Jessica
and she has one foot stuck in the mire of society,
the failure of ambitions,
the tears of dreams lost.
But no worries my sweet friend,
because her other foot is holding fast in. . .
and all that means
His name is Stephen,
Her name is Jessica,
and together
they will conquor the atmosphere.
They have time.

Locked Doors

She journeyed so far and so long to a place she was never brave enough to dream about...and just as she went to open the door she discovered it was locked, nailed shut by yesterday's residents.

It’s Not Glitter

 No one warns you about how dried blood flakes and glistens like glitter that you just can’t seem to get off.  No one tells you how fingerpr...