Rain

it’s not a midlife crisis,
it’s a cracking,
like thin ice on a puddle of water,
first just some hairline wrinkles around the eyes,
then the rest, all at once

it’s a 40-odd year journey of finally feeling free enough to crack,
of figuring out how to pick apart the shell and stand in the presence of myself,
of giving myself permission to unearth and to write,
but also to stalk my own soul,
and sometimes having too much of my own self

sometimes the stalking hurts,
if for no other reason than my skin doesn’t feel like it’s mine;
sometimes I panic,
because I’ve been staring at the answers for so long,
but can’t locate the questions

finding and asking the right questions,
speaking them out loud and in the open,
oh, God –
it turns the air around my words into weather

they say a person’s personality is the sum of their experiences,
but that isn’t entirely true;
if my past was all that defined me,
I’d never be able to put up with myself –
I need the freedom to convince myself that I’m more than the mistakes I made yesterday,
that I am all of my next choices, too,
all of my tomorrows

I am words into rain,
face upturned as the dirt around my bare feet becomes freckled with brown question marks,
my body a thing to be spoken with

and I reach out with open arms for those I love,
pulling them so close there will never be room for blame

Transparent

she’s imperfect in a world that strives for perfection,
instead seeking connection,
while embracing those ill-fitting grooves,
nothing left to prove,
challenging the rerun tapes,
and trashing the old capes

alive in her willingness to be free,
as she

finally able to see with clarity,
who it is she’s meant to be,
exposing her heart,
whole, not just part,
embracing her vulnerability,
and the risk that accompanies

for, that is her true self,
an open book, no longer on the shelf

yet there are days when weighted tears streak the menacing mirror,
when her heart is tired, sadness deeply spearing her

when the looking glass seems transparent,
and others’ stares are overwhelmingly apparent,
when she feels trapped on the inside,
desperate to hide

while others peer in

-image found via Pinterest, artwork by SAUL LANDELL 

Swimming in Circles

’round and ‘round and ‘round I go
hope in circles, love below 

waves behind, ripples ahead
undertow above footbed

in a school, both lost and found
yet chasing tail, ‘round and ‘round

off’ring scales like Rainbow Fish,
unrealistic was my wish

down below, I do belong 
the ‘round and ‘round feels all wrong 

aesthetic is not for me 
I must dive, exhale, be free

-image credit afarcry.org