Category: Poems

My kindness.
My kindness is earned, not given.
Never take my kindness for weakness.
It’s not that kind of kindness.
Like Steel, forged, I have worked that kindness out of me.
Pain is the fire you make a soul of Steel.

My kindness is the strongest part of me.
My kindness takes me to mountain peaks, so a friend is not alone.
My kindness will allow me to drive all night to hold a friend when his father passes.
My kindness will sit with my mother when she is scared for my father.
My kindness will stand in the line of fire to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
My kindness will not let you lie to yourself and will push you to be the best you can.
My kindness will remind you that even at your weakest, you are better than that, and you will hate me for it.
My kindness will sacrifice myself because you need it.
So don’t come to me expecting the kindness of a kitten. The softness of a sheep,
Come to me expecting the kindness of a warrior as hard as the Steel in his blade.
Don’t come to me seeking the kindness of a meek, naive girl who earns her worth from little gestures for little men.
Come to me as you would a goddess who will burn the world if she feels you deserve it.
She has no time for little men who can’t figure out how to care of themselves.
They will abuse her kindness. They want kittens and naive girls, their kindness allows him to stay small.
That’s not the kindness in me.

Rest my soul.

Rest is needed in many forms for many reasons, in different seasons.

A society infatuated with the never-ending doing, accomplishing building making proving.

A restless soul

letting of the agitation infatuation chasing dreams someone else dreamed.

Letting go,

A soul that needs time for being not doing. Rest from the restlessness under my skin.

Be present in this rest, be present for

your body

your thoughts

your emotions,

be present to the people around you,

feel them being as they are right now

Letting go

All of us human.. beings.. for a few moments,

be present for the act of being.

What luxury of self-care allows for being,

for being in whatever state you are in,

to witness, honor and acknowledge your current state of, human

That is rest.

To let go

Of needing wanting anything to be different than it is.

Being in love with your skin, being in love with the rain, enjoyment of food, touch, laughter, and a smile. Here with it, no wishing or anything different than it is, and smiling.

My body needs rest,

Rest, that is allowed, penetrating, and luxurious in just acceptance.

my soul needs to

Rest-

I’ve been contemplating the juxtaposition of Roberts Frost,
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in the wood And I-
I took the one less traveled By
And that had made all the difference.

And Dante Alighieri,
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a dark forest,
for the straightforward pathway had been lost.

The road less traveled,
I found myself broken and bruised in a dark forest, cold and hungry. I thought I found the traveled path, the straightforward way. But I had been gone too long; I was looked at and balked at, a wild thing of the forest.
I am reflecting on the path less travled. 

I did not have the resources to take the road less traveled with skill. No map, no campus, and no shelter from the upcoming night. So I scavenged for food focused on survival.
When coming across the well-marked, trodden road after many years of wandering the woods. 
I did not have the resources to walk tall on the well-worn road, assisted by the trail crews of society’s expectations.

The sunrises were amazing, the sunsets even more so; I found streams and shelters, others that were friends until survival made them competition.

I saw some seemingly well versed in the ways of the road less traveled;  they had skills, knowledge, and support from those on the well warn roads, a lifeline back into that world. That gave them confidence; what they were doing was entirely accepted, and they might return to the world when they saw fit—the “Fat maps” to life.

I shall be telling this with a sigh; it takes a lot of skill to succeed on the road less traveled. It takes support, confidence, knowledge, and discipline. 

Without these, you will become frail, bitter, hungry, cold, angry, and resentful. The sunrise is another day fighting for your place, and the sunset is a new way to survive the night. Trying to navigate when the path becomes no path, just lost in a dark wood. There are predators there. 

I am licking my wounds, watching and learning from those on the smooth paths. I am strong, I know how to survive, though that part of my personality scares people. 

I’ve watched what survival can turn men’s and women’s hearts into. 
I’ve seen it happen to mine. Jealous, vengeful, hurtful things, I’ve watched these to. But, hopefully, at a distance these days. 

People trying to survive don’t always have the luxury of being kind
though often, being kind is your only option in the struggles to survive.

The Wild Woman

No one could have tamed the wild woman in me.

Many have tried
They fell for the free spirit, their desire to become intimate with the nature of a storm
Admired the unpredictable strength and courage to be true to her desires
The contagious joy in experience
To FEEL

But they feared her wildness, her freedom

Their fear of loss made them act in anger, condemning, manipulating, restraining, and controlling.

A need for dominance, the force of will.
They had no faith that they were enough, worthy of love.

Without the gates and cages, strings, muzzle, harness.

No one could have tamed the wild woman in me.
Except me,

I had to gain my trust.
I had to listen to my desires
I had to provide for my needs
I had to love myself unconditionally, fearlessly

In the face of possible loss, loss of those around me.
I have faith that I am enough, uncaged, wild, and free.
I am enough for those that have faith in love.

I am not here to cage or condemn the storm;
The wild woman in me
I’m here to feel and witness the power, and beauty of freedom

I tamed her by letting her free

A Poem

The More

The More I walk into my-self
The More I trust in who I am

The More true to myself I become
The More authentic I am

The More I realized,
How fake I needed to be, to survive.

Only Good

I do not wish for only good things to happen to me
What a boring life that would be

I am grateful for all the good and the bad
For all the happy and the sad

As the level of my love shows in loss
The elaboration of my compassion I emboss

It shows me how strong I can be
The depths of my soul I can see

I do not wish for only good things to happen to me
What a boring life that would be

The mountains we climb.
The mountains in our mind

Everyone’s Mountain is individual
Creating a life that is entirely original
Often feels overwhelmingly unbridgeable

This creates the mountains we climb
The mountains in our mind

Small pebbles of interactions accumulated
Disipoitmenets of events unemulated
The passing of time unstimulated
The numbing of pain uncommunicated

This creates the mountains we climb
The mountains in our mind

Traumas brought from past generations
Wrapped in a need for validation
Your minds act of segregation
From the greater population

This creates the mountains we climb.
The mountains in our mind

The questioning of our worth
Brought on since birth
It should feel as solid as earth
But laughed away with other’s mirth

This creates the mountains we climb.
The mountains in our mind

I face myself in these hills.
I refuse to numb myself with pills.
Rewriting memories thaw, against past chills.
With courage, I create myself in these hills.

This is how I climb the mountains in my mind