I am not simply good,
nor am I simply evil
I am both…
or, perhaps,
I am neither.
Category: Poems
Adventures in Meditation
”I hate you,”
says a mean inner voice
to my whole being.
I sit with that for a moment.
“Oh really, you hate me?”
responds my Inner Wisdom.
she is unphased,
amused,
and, mostly
filled with compassion:
she knows
the mean voice
only says these things
because it is
so,
so
afraid.
Small (Big) Triumphs
Today,
I can listen to the same songs
about toxic relationships
that used to trigger
an ache of recognition
and only feel
a remembrance of that ache,
a compassion for my past self.
It is in these small moments
(which really aren’t small at all)
that I see how far
I’ve come.
Forgiveness VIII
Sometimes,
when I’m feeling angry
that I put so much work
into forgiveness
and still
never got justice,
God whispers in my ear:
“Mercy
is the deepest
Justice.”
My logical mind
is resistant,
and doesn’t know
what the hell that means.
But,
to my soul,
it feels true.
Different
I’m still learning
how not to think I’m wrong
just because I’m different
Compound
This poem is a response to/continuation of my last poem 🙂
Then again,
maybe I’d want
to be a mixture
in some ways
and a compound
in others.
I can’t deny
that love
often changes us
fundamentally;
and
depending on
the type of change,
that can be a really
beautiful
thing.
P.S. If there happen to be any grammar nerds reading this who are willing and able to help me…..
Assuming we’re following standard American English rules, how would you structure the last sentence of the poem in terms of commas and semicolons? I was pretty stumped there. 😀
Mixture
For some reason, I’ve been really into writing poems about relationships using science metaphors lately. This is made more interesting by the fact that I haven’t taken a science class since high school, and only vaguely remember many of the concepts we learned. Let’s hope my Google research of these concepts has not steered me wrong 😛
______________________________
If I ever decide
to commit
to a long-term
romantic partnership,
I’d want our relationship
to be a mixture,
not a compound.
I’d want us to
join together
while still retaining
our individual
properties.
Solid Ground
the Truth
is the ground
you will stand on
when
everything else
falls away.
Part of the Family
I finally see the mean inner voices for what they are:
part of the family.
I’m never going to eradicate them.
Fear,
self-doubt,
self-criticism,
and depression
will always be in the car
in the road trip of my life–
a month from now,
a year from now,
ten years from now.
And that’s okay.
They can be here–
as long as they know their place.
They sit in the back.
They sit shotgun.
They are not the driver.
I repeat:
They are not the driver.
*Credit where credit is due: this poem is a paraphrase of a part of Big Magic, by Elizabeth Gilbert.*
Windows and Mirrors
You don’t have to
make your art a window
if you don’t want to.
It doesn’t have to be
transparent enough
for others to look through
and see your naked soul.
If you prefer,
you can make your art a mirror:
still honest and clear enough
for folks to look into
and see their own beauty and suffering,
reflected.
But opaque enough
to protect the parts of yourself
that you decide belong to you,
not the world.
You can tell the truth
without revealing everything,
and that is okay.
Musings and Music 