(as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

In the window, there was a bluebird.

It never whistled, never said a word,

Yet when I visited, you pointed it out,

That little clay bird, short, sweet, and stout.

Beneath the bird, an African violet sat,

Its joyful petals spread over its leafy lap.

You pointed it out to those who could see,

Which caused the giver, a third in line, much glee.

Around you were faces from our tree of genetics,

All smiling and posed or laughing and hectic.

Some of the faces were bathed in golden light,

While others were painted in black and white.

The last time I saw you, you sang us a song,

About a moose in some tracks, as you sat in our throng,

But today all the world is silent.

Even our salty tears fall in quiet.

You had told me a story about the white pinecone land,

And how, when you moved here, you missed the sand.

Your dad caught seafood, though you got none.

That food was for selling; it was a treat to get some.

One day there was a record playing in the living room.

It told the story of a boy, someone you once knew.

You would tell a tale, and the whole world listened,

But someone will read this now as their eyelashes glisten.

We’ll have to go up north when the ground’s not frozen

And watch amongst the buttonbushes as the ground gets opened.

Then you’ll become a daffodil in the Lord’s field,

While here on earth things have yet to yield.

You, a grandmother and a storyteller with heart,

You were a world changer who left a lasting mark.

And when the bluebird sings, I’ll see you still

And that little clay bird on the windowsill.

01.25.2023 (as seen in “The In-Between”)

I’m nineteen and scared of twenty-three.

What could someone with four more years do to me?

A man like that could easily abuse

Someone like me who’s emotionally confused.

Despite my fear, I am intrigued by you.

I verge on twenty and you’re at twenty-two.

Could two years be a little too much time?
If we fell in love would it be a crime?

There’s a guy who dated a sixteen-year-old

When eighteen had just become his own.

They walk two different paths of life.

Too far apart. No one views them right.

It’s not the age, it’s the mental state

And the fact they’re walking different ways.

Despite the warnings, so many cross the line.

It’s delusional to believe all will end up fine.

So yes, I’m nineteen and afraid of twenty-three

Because to light that match could be a tragedy.

But twenty-two looks good as twenty nears.

Do warnings overcome the want of someone dear?

I hope that you get flowers for your birthday,

that someone sees them and thinks of you.

I hope everyone comes and fills the room with

the bubbles of laughter you love.

I hope they call you just to sing that song,

the birthday one, at the top of their lungs.

I hope that you get chocolate and knick-knacks–

Things that don’t last and things that sit.

I hope you get time with your friends,

the old and the new all together.

I hope that you feel at home this time

and I hope the feeling stays.

I hope that you get what I got

and that it’s as blessed a year as you dreamed of.

12.07.2020 (as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

Miss Swift used roses to show the love she had,

But for me, they symbolize something bad.

They sat in my cup holder as I drove home.

A part of me wished they would fly out the window.

Flowers are like relationships: they come with seasons.

Both can bloom, thrive, and then die,

And when they inevitably do, someone cries.

So showing up with a bouquet seemed like an omen,

Like a grim appearing when I’ve begun hoping.

After a night of awkward laughter swimming in my head,

I was left resenting flowers, wishing they were dead.

I last received a rose at my angel’s relative’s funeral,

Back then, I’d opened it for faes, pretending they were real.

But these sit on a shelf in my room

Causing joy, confusion, and gloom.

I refuse to look at their rosy faces.

In fact, at the moment, I’m turned away.

Do you know that this relationship is intended for death?

Or were you just focused on a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath?

I’m not saying it will end soon.

I’m not saying I’ll give in to the gloom,

But I’m a realist, and when I look at bouquets,

I see rushed commitment followed by dark days.

12.21.2020 (as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

Can you imagine being nailed to a tree?

To blow in the wind like a simple leaf.

Can you imagine making that your fate?

To hang there in agony and patiently wait.

Would you do something like that for me,
Let yourself ache for all to see?

To have a public death for the greater good,

To hear of a better day coming and believe it could.

Can you give up what you scarcely have?

Would you do it for your mom or dad?

Would you feel your life fade away?

Would you even lift your head to say:

“Have patience, have peace.

Care for those, even the least.”

Maybe you can’t imagine it,

But that’s the throne on which my Savior sits.

That’s the price He chose to pay

For us to have that better day.

02.07.2022 (as seen in “The In-Between”)

Picture me as Juliet if she had not kissed death.

Paint me as the dinner party without Lady Macbeth.

Make me the events, the love, and the jubilancy

And take away the cliffhangers and the tragedy.

I am not those things anymore- I am not the dame

Who does things in the fall of love that people call insane.

I imagine myself like Jane— poor, miserable, alone—

Who fell in love with a man of disdain, living in his home.

What should make a woman act that way?

What will the gossipers make of her, what will they say?

They make of most women no good wives;

All they see is delicates who cause drama in their lives.

However, they perceive us wrong on all accords.

They darken our bright sides until no one remembers before.

Imagine me as Dorian, and no one would bat an eye.

Of my jealous and lavish ways, they would comply.

If I were a March sister, there'd be chaos to ensue.

With a girl brasher than Jo they would not know what to do.

No, if I were like them with all their worst parts

I would not be the real me, the one who knows her heart.

If you wrote me down on paper, you'd have to include my worst.

In order to fill the space, you'd make me seem cursed.

Instead, envision me on canvas with my sharpness taken out.

Make me a classic that generations will rave about.

All my nasty, nitty-gritty is seen from my point of view

So write me omniscient and make me anew.

Maybe I shall be Evangeline; the sweet lover, the one side

Of the coin, properly balanced with no bad thing to hide.

Yes, make me the love interest, kind yet stern.

Let me have a brilliant title like the one I so deserve.

(as seen in “Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide”)

Everything comes crashing down in waves.

Waves crashing over me from the sea.

See the way they cover all?

All you know, want, and have.

Have you ever known a complete loss?

Loss of friends, loss of self.

Self-reflection gets you nowhere.

Where you want to go, you cannot be.

Be here with me in this second.

Second-guess nothing for a day.

Daylight will break and cover everything.

(as seen in “Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide”)

Everything’s tumbling down: the gravity is too strong.

My life is only misery; everything is going wrong.

What is the point in staying here? The earth is surely not mine.

And if there’s nothing for me… Would leaving be such a crime?

They watch me as I pass by, they whisper behind their hands.

I feel like I’m on eggshells; There’s no safe place to land.

The doors don’t open for me; No one wants to let me in.

They silently scream my crimes; I’m wallowing in my sin.

I’m hyperventilating. Why can’t my breathing just stop?

I wish that I was dying. There’s still ticking from my clock?

I wish I could be the sky, with frosted buttercream clouds.

I wish that I was pretty, that I’d fit in among crowds.

Like a wave in the olden days: pure, healthy, and beautiful.

Maybe a hidden flower; a surprising miracle.

If I was that, I could be loved. Not just live, I could survive.

But I’m stuck being me, wishing I could die or thrive.

I still see them every week. I need to have a blind eye.

One of them makes me feel hurt, the other one makes me cry.

I can’t seem to avoid them… Yet the chapter has ended.

They stalk me, page after page; Their stories are long-winded.

If they won’t leave my story, then maybe I should leave theirs.

I’ll tell the world of my deeds; To my anger, they’ll be heirs.

How can I leave their hatred? Could I really disappear?

Where could I ever be free? Where their anger won’t be near.

Would escaping force you out? Can I rid you from my head?

If I leave will I forget? Or will I need to be dead?

Flee to the mountains alone, go to the beach with strangers,

Try and replace all they took without all of the dangers.

Get out! Get out of my brain! I can’t heal an open wound.

I want you out of my world, I can’t forget too soon.

My hometown seems to hate me, Faraway shores call my name.

Every aspect needs a change, I cannot remain the same.

Get tan, add air to my lungs,  change my appearance all around.

Cut my hair, start to smile,  learn to enjoy the earth’s sounds.

Maybe the world could love me. Maybe I can have a place.

If I can become better when I disappear, no trace.

The future version of me, what would make her different?

A smile no one could break and a peace that can’t unring.

She’d draw other people in with a warmth and welcoming.

How hard could it be to change? I have a goal in my mind.

If I know my end result, the path can’t be hard to find.

If I want to have blue skies, I can’t force gray clouds to come.

I have to change my patterns—It’s easier said than done.

Change can’t only be wanted; healing isn’t overnight.

Blink of an eye won’t fix it, a day won’t make it alright.

Yet the yearning means there’s hope, hope that Time lets me forget.

There’s a lesson in my pain. Will they will have been worth it?

Past grey clouds are golden skies, past the storm is a rainbow,

Past a hurricane is peace, past the headache is a door closed.

The right door at the wrong time? It’s a wrong door overall.

They can want what’s best and fail; Ask me to jump, I just fall.

I should just listen to me or a voice sent from above

Not someone who stopped caring, or someone I couldn’t love.

And maybe my voice is sad, but the sadness will soon fade

And then something new will grow when all the old melt away.

I hope I can forget this, like they’ll forget about me,

That moving on won’t take years, that I’ll soon be free.

Envisioning my future, trying to plan for my best,

And make sure I’m okay: the first steps of my next quest.

09.01.2022 (as seen in “The In-Between”)

Flowers and nuts, my love, that’s all we’ll need.

A handful of nuts and a handful of seeds.

From a flower seed, a garden grows.

And from a tiny nut, we’ll grow our home.

Though it will take time, we’ll be patient together.

Through the wilting and new growth, we’ll make it though.

I’ll hold your hand, we can survive any kind of weather

As long as we fight for each other, me and you.

Flowers and nuts, my dear, that’s all in our hands.

Just joy and hope and a small plot of land.

If we make the choice, the joy will bloom

And over time comes a sweet perfume.

And if we wait until we have a full-grown tree,

We’ll have fought through years and gardened a field.

Perhaps one day we’ll look to the oak and see

That it wasn’t only us for which time doesn’t yield.

Flowers and nuts will be enough.

Simplicity will be enough for our love.

Please be patient as we wait side by side

To see if the tree and the flowers survive.

02.22.2021 (as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

There’s a galaxy boy I know

Who I tend to worry about.

He spent his time chasing a goddess

Who treated him like a lout.

He then befriended her anyways,

Hoping to change her mind.

She took his hand

And made him fall in line.

Galaxy Boy holds the secret to the world,

Both yours and mine,

But he’s stuck with the goddess,

So no secrets he finds.

The goddess says she loves him now.

I believe that’s a lie.

She’ll drop him. He’ll fall to earth

And begin to cry.

I hope when he finds that time,

When he starts to fall,

He’ll remember my little poem

And know he’s worth it all.

A false god is fun for short,

But when she goes away,

Galaxy Boy will be himself,

And hopefully, he’ll stay.

12.27.2020 (as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

I’m lost. I know people lost like me,

People drowning in sadness and apathy.

We’re pulled apart, scissors cutting string;

We feel of no use, bells that cannot ring.

We want to escape, yearn to soar,

But we don’t realize we’ll be on the ocean floor.

We are not Hercules; we are truly lost.

We may fall alongside the likes of Icarus.

We may stumble along the road,

Fall down the rabbit hole,

But how long will it take to return home?

And will our sister still be reading her tome?

If we’re chained to a rock, we’ll be beaten away,

But either we will wait for a savior or ourselves we save.

Do we seek revenge on the one who chained us?

Or shall we caution others under his lust?

In the end, too many choose to leave,

While others struggle in the deep.

Yes, I am lost, among others like me.

I am someone who’s deserving of good things.

I don’t know how, I don’t know why He’d choose someone like me.

But He did, and for this reason I’ll forever sing

praises to the one they call the King of Kings.

I am someone who was given a new chance.

Don’t know how He picked me, but it wasn’t happenstance.

I was picked for a purpose, so I will sing and dance

‘cause He purposed me from the top of my head to the hem of my pants.

I am someone who has been redeemed.

He saw my worst and still decided He loved me.

Took my guilt and shame and nailed them to a tree

so I will praise The Lord who gives me blessings.

Oh, Icarus, did you trust someone too much?

Did you feel safe in your father's love?

Was hope too strong a drug?

Did its effects wear off? Did you wake up?

Oh, Icarus, my boy, what have you done?

Golden wings, melted wax,

Moments of fear sprinkled with laughs.

Father and son working together one more time.

A chance to flee, a chance to fly,

Didn't even say goodbye.

The wings were heavy but you said you were fine.

Oh, Icarus, was it too much to bear?

Did you love it when you soared in the air?

Did you smell the sea?

Was there freedom in the evening breeze?

Oh, Icarus, my boy, what have you done?

An angry king with a heavy hand

A chance to flee to a distant land.

Were you scared or were you ready to fly?

Put on the wings, the wax applied

Then you took to the skies,

Do you wish that you had told your dad goodbye?

Oh, Icarus, why did you reach for the sun?

Did you know you'd drown when the fall had begun?

Did you cry out?

Were you scared? Did your dad give a shout?

Oh, Icarus, my boy, what have you done?

Written in 2021 for my high school English class

Despite the void that is the unknown

And the way I keep walking through hell,

I know that I’m not truly alone,

I will go into the future alive and well.

When I don’t wanna exist like this

Or I feel there’s no hope,

I’ll hear the voices and resist,

I will find a way to cope.

One day I’ll look back and smile

At the way I once cried.

All the tears will be worth my while

When I love my life.

Past the heartache and life pains,

My story I will tell,

I’ll tell others how I still remain:

I will go into the future alive and well

Written in 2021 for my high school English class

I am tall and colored by the sun.

I wonder about what life holds.

I hear the voice of the One.

I see the way the paper folds,

I want a little more connection.

I am tall and colored by the sun.

I pretend I’m healing but I’m not

I feel the weight of dissatisfaction

I touch the purchase, I am the cost

I worry that I’ll have no traction

I cry for the way I consider myself lost

I am tall and colored by the sun.

I understand I have some kind of worth

I say it to myself for conviction

I dream that I may leave this mirth

I try to shine, I’m the illumination

I hope it marks me, they’ll see me first

I am tall and colored by the sun.

Written in 2022 for National Fine Arts Competition.

The Lord loved me when the soul I loved was not my own.

He provided me a shelter when I was wandering alone.

Though He knew my transgressions—the hate beneath my breast—

He still wanted me as His child. He redeemed me nonetheless.

Anger stirred beneath my bones and enemies I made.

My Savior brought me out of hate. He loved me even when I strayed.

And when panic squeezed my heart, and I was lost at sea, 

The Lord, my God, brought me to dry land and calmed my anxieties.

I was caught in my sadness and couldn’t see a way, 

But Jesus cast out my depression, so I lived in brighter days.

I wrestled with my flesh, in how I perceived myself,

And as I'm writing this today, I’m unsure about my health, 

But the author of it all is renewing my soul 

So that even in my brokenness, I can be made beautiful.

I put my worth in people, I know it’s a mistake,

But God has been working on me and helping my bad habits break.

He tells me, “love people, but in them don’t find your worth,”

And I can feel His pull for me to set fire to all the earth.

Whenever I hear your voice, Lord, let it be a spark

That catches fire within my soul before spreading through the dark.

But until that future day when You will call me home,

I shall carry out all You call me to while on this earth I roam.

(as seen in ”Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide”)

What is love without loneliness?

Love itself brings us sadness.

Love in its absence makes you feel empty.

Love at its peak becomes your everything.

During a honeymoon, you may look out past the balcony

And fathom your joined future as you gaze upon the city.

All the world could hold your eyes

But it’s your lover who’s on your mind.

Even when they’re absent your thoughts find them.

They roam about your head on any given whim.

Sometimes lovers leave and saddle you with grief

Or they change and make you wish they would leave.

But all those fresh emotions spawn from love.

If you let it go it won’t come back much like Noah’s dove.

So you ache in either grief or joy.

Love can fill your soul or leave a void.

It can give you sorrow or bliss.

Truly, you wouldn’t know love without loneliness.

For love becomes sweeter after a bitter taste

But it can also vanish without a trace

03.06.2022 (as seen in “The In-Between”)

His lack of confession marred his life with pity.

He never told her he loved her or that she was pretty.

So what if it was his duty to love her from afar?

He willingly chose to make his life a broken heart.

And that’s the legacy he chose to pin to his name

When he was brilliant enough to chase any type of fame.

He was a soldier who never ran away from a fight

But when it came to telling her, he ran off into the night.

If his words had inspired her flame to be lit afire

How could he not tell the longing girl of his own desires?

How simple it should be for a man so proficient with language

To tell her the truth: that his love held him hostage.

“Beloved every ramble on my tongue was spared by thee,

For you are the ocean, I’m a ship lost at sea.

Your being occupies the black behind my weary eyes.

You hold my patience and spread it from the roots to the skies.

When the world ends and all that’s left is spirit,

I hope to find your soul with my own tied to it.”

All the beautiful sentences my head couldn’t begin to fathom

Are the same things that he forced himself to hold in.

If his love was the gravity pull from the bottomless pit,

Her yearning was the one thing that spurned her wit.

She longed to find the man who could fulfill her wildest wants

And never knew that the very fact she craves also haunts.

If she had broadened her horizons, she'd find love by her side.

She could have had him sooner if she’d seen through his disguise.

Instead, she kept her love narrow and couldn’t see past her nose

And he kept his love close to his chest until it and his heart froze.

Then she lost him and his heart broke bit by broken bit

Until there was nothing but his soul and he gave her it.

She had no idea that he loved her until his lungs could explode

And as he lay dying she knew her true love was Cyrano.

01/12/2025 - unpublished

Oddities upon oddities.

The din of voices humming.

Laughs echoing in halls.

Smiles on many faces.

You'd never know it was a funeral.

I suppose He was right-

We may cry in darkness

but there is joy in the morning.

Stillness in every season.

Laughter in midst of mourning.

A life well lived now celebrated.

People reminisce fondly.

Yet tears are shed-

Storm clouds in a sunny sky.

Oddities upon oddities.

01/08/2022 (as seen in “The In-Between”)

It made me sad when you called the old you chubby.

You said it with a laugh but you looked haunted, honey.

One little word and you became so mean

To the boy I had a crush on when I was seventeen.

So what if you got fit and you give better advice?

I miss the boy who used to be genuinely nice.

Your absent-minded stares make me wish I were dead

Or at least back in the old days of you inside my head.

You don’t pay any rent and I didn’t use to mind.

I just wish you were kinder to the boy I used to find

So golden covered and when I look in the rearview.

I realize that life sucks now because I still miss you.

(as seen in “Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide”)

When I was little, I tried capturing butterflies.

My net would catch them, their wings would break, and I’d cry.

My mother consoled me with a pastry and a drink

As I sat on the counter beside the kitchen sink.

Mama would bandage my wounded knees and warn of scars

And she was always there when my life felt hard.

Of course, I didn’t know how lucky I was

Back when I found joy in simple little loves.

Like catching butterflies, wishing on stars,

Going barefoot in the grass, and catching fireflies in jars.

My true loves: late-night reading and morning toast.

Seeing sunrises with Papa and weekend trips to the coast.

The philia’s: sweet summer air and the first fall of snow,

Dancing in the rain and sleeping in the mid-morning glow.

The storge: fresh-baked bread, the peeling paint on our cabinets,

The scent of citrus and vanilla, and the frog statue on our front steps.

All my simple little loves I didn’t realize I’d forgotten,

Left behind in my memories that now begin to soften.

Maybe I shall try and regain those simple little loves

And all of the beautiful things I once made myself of.

A seed in hand and a season of good soil.

I buried it in the ground and began to toil.

Time given away to a little thing hidden under dirt

that, in time, I believed would have its worth.

But then came a drought, and up grew weeds

that came to choke and suffocate my little seed.

I gave it some water, but felt so parched

while we both waited for the rain to start.

Showers came a month later, but to my dismay

came in such abundance it tried to sweep my seed away.

So I put it in a pot of dirt, hoping it’d survive

and that if I was lucky, I’d get to see it thrive.

But next came the thorns surrounding the pot,

and unlucky again was I, my skin got caught.

It drew blood, and tears came pouring out.

Anxious and fed up, I began to shout.

Looking up to the heavens, I yelled at God.

“Where were You when weeds came, and I was hot?”
“I did all the work! I tried but only failed!”

“Did You abandon me? Why can’t I prevail?”

He uttered not a word, gave me not a sign.

For a moment, I wondered if I was left behind.

But in an instant, I found something of worth;

A little sprig of His faithfulness poking out of the dirt.

10.31.2020 (as seen in “The Way I Felt”)

Take me to the gardens to admire all the beauty,

And maybe when I look up, you’ll be looking at me.

Take me on a walk, and I’ll think of the faes I wrote of,

The ones I get lost looking for, the ones that I love.

Lose me among the tulips as I lie down for a nap,

And find me in the daisies or covered in tree sap.

Follow me through the gazebos, the middle of the square,

And watch as a stray flower ends up stuck in my hair.

Kiss me by the camellias, bloom like my emotions,

Then point down the rabbit trail we hope to get lost in.

Take me to see the sunflowers, somehow taller than I,

And tell me what you believe they’d see if they had eyes.

Maybe I’ll get lost in the gardens, looking through the weeds,

And maybe, if you’re watching, I’ll steal a couple seeds.

Think of me like the babbling stream that flows through the plants

And then decide to take of me and hold my hand.

You’ll soon lose me in a drawing that I drew for myself.

Remind me to breathe in fresh air, better for my health.

Paint me like a flower and try and keep me here alive

Because we are still young and hoping that we’ll survive.

Take me to the gardens where my hope is alive,

’Cause there amongst the wildest things, I begin to thrive.

Did you miss them every night?

Do you wish you could've said goodbye?

Was it worth it for the life you led?

You spoke of them in your final breath.

Are we the stars the family you loved?

Was it them they reminded you of?

Did you seek them when your sisters passed on?

You saw them once more. Then you were gone.

Was it hard to see millennia pass?

Were you relieved when you breathed your last?

Was it relief to die among friends?

You became a constellation in the end.

Written in 2020

As I stumble through the darkness

I will have no fear,

For I can sense Your presence

I feel You draw near.

You guide me out of my cave,

My fears and my doubts,

And into the open world,

I take a step out.

I breathe in Your morning light,

Shaky breaths now calmed,

My anxieties silenced,

Chill after it stormed.

Though my soul soon grows restless

And my mind it breaks,

I breathe in your earthy moors,

I lay, but I wake.

When I am stuck in my old ways

I'll remember Thee.

I see visions of futures

I have yet to dream.

I have hope for renewal

Found in salvation.

You are the reason I dream,

Visions: now steps taken.

I believe in Thee, O Lord.

Visions of candor:

Showing me not who I am,

But Your character.

You are my refuge, my hope,

The place where I'm safe.

I look up to the heavens,

Stars outline Your face.

You're the place where I can hide,

You're where I run free.

I can run, I can rest, oh Lord,

In You I breathe deep.

I was down, I was depressed

And then You felt far.

The mountain and seas both gone

Clouds covered the stars.

I now walk with Your people

And tell them of You

Until those who still wander

Become far and few.

When throngs of people crowd me

Yelling with their lies,

My heart will start to flee

Taking to the skies.

When my heart starts to wander

And the sounds are loud,

I hold on to Your promise;

It's parting the crowd.

When voices scream too loudly.

My life on the line.

I hear You saying ‘Silence

For this one is Mine.’

You wrap me in Your kind hands,

Yet I can still breathe.

Your love pulls me in a hug,

You are all I need.

You protect me from sharp thorns,

Your own flesh gets pierced.

You give me light in the dark,

I see you near’st.

You guide me through my mountains,

My battles are Yours.

Even in broken healing,

I'm here on all fours.

My Lord, Your love never ends,

Your mercies never cease.

Your grace it surrounds me now,

Your advice I heed.

When I fall down on my knees, 

You are always there

And You will never bring me

More than I can bear.

I welcome death and fear You,

For this world's not mine.

This world is a holding place

Where, for You, I shine.

In everything I'll exalt

The One who creates

Such beauty from these ashes 

And makes my life whole.

I rise, not fearing the fall,

For You can catch me.

Faith is found in You alone,

You're all we can see.

You make good of what's broken,

Make whole of what's not,

Breaking is just the process

To find what You've got.

I welcome what's to come next,

I will welcome death,

For it can not give me fear,

I'll still live yet.