Like a Sparrow in the Sky

For my grandmother, Henrica Henrichon. You will be in my heart always. <3

Like a sparrow in the sky,
floating on the gentle breeze,
bathing in the sunlight.
I watch the sparrow in the sky
and think of you.
I think of you gaining your wings at last,
and taking flight.
I think of you meeting another sparrow,
one that has been flying,
restless and waiting for you.
As you take flight, wings gently beating,
I gaze at your splendor,
gazing at the happiness of you and your partner,
flying together at last.
As you look down and see me,
one last peaceful glance,
I know you are safe,
surfing in the sunlight.

Otherside

What do you do
When the blood has started to seep into the wounds,
burning with a stinging passion.
Or when the world your footsteps once graced
slips away in a panic quake,
destroying everything in its path.

Like a tsunami, wiping away the past, present and future,
mountains of water crashing over paper houses.
Morphing sunlight into the deepest shade of moonlight.
Like a little blond haired child,
tossing a rainbow beach ball into the breeze
but never seeing it return with the pressure of gravity?

What do you do...
when it comes down to that one question
of the magnificent judgment?
Where will you go...
up like a kite surfing in the wind
or down like the drill pounding into soil?

Do not stand at my grave and weep- Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Puppet

I am not the puppet and you are not the puppeteer.
I am not the breakable porclain doll you've come to smash.
You do not hold the strings.
No longer will I dance across the stage for your pleasure,
or sing out in the sweet voice you praise.
No, I am myself.
I move my bendable limbs by myself.
My heart beats because I make it so.
I cut my strings from my puppeteer's hand
and take scissors to the clothes you stitched.
I kick off the old shoes you used to worship me in.
I am tired of being your trophy.
You have tried to set fire to my box.
So I have torn down the curtains,
destroyed the set.
Because I am not the puppet and you are not the puppeteer.

I Didn't Know

When I was younger, I didn't know
how love could be such a game.
how my heart could beat so loudly like battle drums when he was near,
or the treacherous game of tug of war with all the other girls,
or the secret codes running rapidly through the stream of gossip.
I didn't understand how
anyone could affect me so,
and drive me to do such crazy things.
But i had to, I had to play the game,
for the one I adored.
I had to fight all the other girls.
I had to dress up pretty and parade myself to try and gain his attention.
I had to steal his affections from unworthy girls.
But I had to win the game.

First Love- reposted

Let’s just take a break. You’ll be

And all the memories begin

 floating away as red rose petals

from the first date

at Ruggeri’s wilted.

The Hatsfield carnival panda leaks

stuffing, and Be Mine Forever

Valentine heart

Rips in half.

In room, a museum to his memory,

I curl Indian-style in the middle of dull blue

 carpet, forehead on knees,

and cry at his green

hoodie hanging, a limp spirit

 from my bed post, and his Abercrombie navy blue t shirt

 I still sleep in, though wrinkled and dirty

and wet with heavy tears.

I can’t return to that high school,

where they all watch, all know

I no longer smell the rustic guy

scent of smoke and hazel and coffee,

no longer wear heart

charms, now scattered in rage.

I watch the torn and faded scorecard,

the third date, Fenway mini golf,

 June 4^th, sweep out on a wind

through the cracked window screen.

Okay?

Caught in Limbo

Captured. Contained.
A world of nothingness swims around,
imprisoned, away from the rest of civilization.
A new story, an old beginning.
No one to hear the soft wind of the future
overcome the drift
of gentle shadows dropping onto gray bars
of cold and steel.
No one to bask in the delicious sunlight
or quench the thirst on tiny droplets of graceful
descending waves or watch life
grow on slender branches.
A place so far, so out of touch,
that is it only space,
empty space, unloved,
forgotten, and caught
in limbo. 

A Shadow of Pain

Dark, glooming clouds, rushing over the treetops.
Shadows swallow flickers of delicate blades of grass.
Bright graceful leaves eaten by the midnight eclipse.
As a soul is stung with the pain.

Waves crash onto fragile shells, shattering and
spitting them into tiny forgotten pieces.
Rocks imprison the flighty bits of kelp.
As a heart is ripped to shreds.