Words fascinate me.They are one of the most human ways we express ourselves and connect with others. Every word carries history, meaning, and impact far beyond the page.
In my free time, I explore language through poetry, finding balance between storytelling, art, and expression.
FOLDING LAUNDRY
Clothes tangled together,
In a heap on my bed,
Bright colors and worn cotton,
A small history.
A shirt stained in a bar
I’ve never been to,
A short skirt
You’ve never removed,
How vulnerable it is
To let someone touch
The fabric of your past.
A black dress with a broken strap,
Dark, drunken night,
Carefully sewn back together.
You like when I wear it, I think.
A sock without a match,
Dark, drunken night,
Drifter paired with drifter.
I like it when they have funky prints.
Each piece waits its turn,
to be seen, handled, tucked away.
A rhythmic pattern:
Fold, Smooth, Stack.
Sorting slowly, tenderly:
Yours, Mine, Ours.
To make something messy neat,
A small patience.
PLACES OF FAITH AND WAITING
In this place of waiting,
I sit and pray
for you.
O God, be
wisdom for the surgeons,
clarity for their minds,
calm within their hands.
O Lord, be
strength for my mother,
protection for her body,
peace within her spirit.
May your will be
done, for light,
for grace,
for love.
In this place of faith,
I stay and wait
for you.
FOREVER ANGELS
Clothes tangled together,
In a heap on my bed,
Bright colors and worn cotton,
A small history.
A shirt stained in a bar
I’ve never been to,
A short skirt
You’ve never removed,
How vulnerable it is
To let someone touch
The fabric of your past.
A black dress with a broken strap,
Dark, drunken night,
Carefully sewn back together.
You like when I wear it, I think.
A sock without a match,
Dark, drunken night,
Drifter paired with drifter.
I like it when they have funky prints.
Each piece waits its turn,
to be seen, handled, tucked away.
A rhythmic pattern:
Fold, Smooth, Stack.
Sorting slowly, tenderly:
Yours, Mine, Ours.
To make something messy neat,
A small patience.