For ourselves

such is the notion

set in motion

by false cries

of chivalry and what

should be

and who

will do

what for us when

what, for us,

should be

the sum of what we

believe

should be and what

we do

for ourselves.

We shall sea

Some days I can feel the breeze

See the leaves, each one green

And bright in the trees

As they pour over me

And cool my face, soothe my heart

I can see.

Some days I don't feel a thing

Only thing that I see

Is a blur in front of me

As if I'm sinking into the sea

And my face is numb, as is my heart

Cease to be

But still am forced to be

In this state without grace,

Without grace,

Cannot taste a single thing

And I think, could this be

What will be 

Eternally? 

And then, ever slowly things emerge

One at a time, in my head

Get out of bed reluctantly

But something small

Pulls me free, reminds me

Every time

Though the numb stays on just

A little more every time even after

It goes away

That at least I will have

One more day, one more chance

Let us see 

If the breeze

If the trees

If the leaves

If the be-ing will always come

Like the sea, to the shore

Back to me, and away,

And back to me.

Hummingbird

Hummingbird flits in and out

Of visible light, alighting for a moment

But just a moment with weak feet

On said flower or some limb

For nourishment

Then, split second and

Fast and long and hard

She flies the next flight

And she knows

She is always there, because there

Is no other reality.

Hummingbird flits in and out

Of people's vision, and for a moment

They see her and, hypnotized,

Wonder what the deeper meaning is,

Meaning well but necessitating

That she move on and on

And gone, subject her

To misguided positing

And 'what is the reason for this?'

While she is just a hummingbird

Was born a hummingbird

Will always be

Though for only a short while

A hummingbird.

Good to meet you?

You think you know a person;

Knowledge collected from bits of data

Like birthday, job, quotes, homes,

All amassed in black and white

And maybe a photo or two.

You think you know a person;

Knowledge collected in coffees

Where stories, highlights, expressions, fears,

Emerge into a three-dimensional form

And maybe an insight or two.

You think you know a person;

Knowledge collected over time

Like betrayals, quirks, denials, anxieties,

And the glimpse into the fourth dimension

And suddenly you know

You only thought you knew a person

And starting from scratch is impossible

And you know

You can only think you know a person.

Bridesmaids

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride,
So they say in a literal context
But what about the figurative sense
And the concubines, the loyal support decked out in
Garish dresses, noticed for that
While the one in white glides by
With the accolades and the 
Gifts piled high when she probably doesn't even need them
Anyway?

One must pause to question 
The salt behind the wanting
To be a bride in the first place,
In any case, 
For the sacrificial lamb is always white
While those behind the image,
Up to their necks in dirt and sweat,
Are those who turn the tides
And hold the lines
And make the strides to change the times,
While the wives, after their brief moment in the sunshine,
Are relegated to laundry
And crates and barrels
And a string of onesies and sameness
Everyday, questionably, thereafter.

Codependents, and us.

I want to climb inside your eyes

And stay a while, to recharge

The shine that usually resides

Inside my soul but oft grows hard.

And while inside, just for a time

Or two times, maybe three times more

I would reclaim it for myself

And for you too, as what's in store

For those who use each other up

And those who, selfishly, decide

To heal themselves they first must sup

And suck another poor soul dry,

Is never knowing what true love

Or what its cousin, friendship, means,

And they will, endless, others, shove

To misery with them, it seems.