Perfectionism (a poem)

The saints wanted perfection

so do some of us

but chasing this goal is like

walking over burning coals

what about progress?

self-acceptance?

what about turning away from Never Enough?

resting in the realization that

this life is absurd

that all this effort can

crash & burn

in the blink of an eye

(Photo by Aron Van de Pol on Unsplash)

The Day my Brother was Born (a poem)

The day my brother was born, I was torn –

already 16 years old

on the cusp of college & adult life

he was so precious

he kept me close to home

in mind & soul

even though the family fell apart

I keep him close to my heart

worry about him, but know that

he’s my blood & I’d go to the gates of Hell

to protect him.

(Photo by Kylo on Unsplash)

Radiance (a poem)

Look to the light, my love

turn away from these screens that

tether, pull us into a spider’s web –

the ebb, flow of a life filled

with strife, makes my heart sore

I yearn for more love

which is why I turn to you

no matter what happens here

look to the light, my love

the radiance of happier days.

(Photo by Nicola Fioravanti on Unsplash)

Reason for Being (a poem)

What’s your reason for being?

In Japan, they have a word for this: ikigai

let’s ponder it, you + me – step into my office,

care for a cigar?

think about those times you wanted to end it all

before the Fall

of America – now, we live amidst the ruins

you must have a reason to keep movin’

what’s your secret?

(Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash)

Criminals (a poem)

I dream of criminals, being a witness to misdeed

men with dark eyes do dark things in motel rooms

tell me to keep my mouth zippered shut –

I wake with a sense of dread

storm clouds gather outside frosted windows

a woman with an umbrella screams

then runs for her life.

(Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash)

Rock Bottom (a poem)

Alcoholics like to talk about rock bottom –

the moment they recognized the bottle is filled with lies

the moment when they open their eyes

+ know they don’t have to drink anymore

I hit bottom in a rehab far from home after unkind words

from a social worker who told me

I was running from life – but that’s in the past

I’m still running, I know not why

the sky is falling, fireballs shooting like comets

+ I think this recovery thing is never over –

it’s a life-long process that can’t be defined

by our constant categorizing.

(Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash)