Monday, August 30, 2010

i hate when you make me lose faith in people.

but then somebody always gives it back.

i am not my hair.

i am not this skin.  i am not your expectations.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


wrote this almost five years ago. found it and smiled, even though it's not that happy. enjoy. :)

i will follow where you go
life, death, or limbo
come hell or high water,
the horsemen of death

look fear in the eye,
and smile.

"you cannot conquer a mountain,"
she told me one day,
"but you can conquer yourself."

so i will follow where you go
life, death, or limbo.

this is not your star spangled banner.

i'm not  here to play with you,
i'm just trying to relay to you 
the reality 
of what it is that we go through

and i shouldn't say we, but i do 
because thankfully, 
i'm still relatively free
to go and say and do like i please
the worse it ever comes to
is looks and comments on the streets
and random selections at airport security

and you won't see it on tv,
but there are places where children 
once ran in the streets
and i say ran, because now
instead of bare feet
bombs rain down like 
stars over the sea

women wail over 
those same children's feet,
now not connected to anything

so while they may look like me,
same bridge of nose, same 
color of teeth,
while they might talk like me
and pray like me, 
and come from me,
they are not like me
and i shouldn't say we.

because at least i know 
what it's like
to be a little bit free. 

Sunday, August 22, 2010

my wishing stone

i will not call you my rose
in such an overdone tone, 
i will not compare your eyes
to the sun

i will not equate your hair 
to waves of silk, your hands
to satin

your voice to honey

your voice has always been slightly hoarse,
anyway, your hands worker's rough,
your eyes favor coal more than diamonds,
and your hair splits in places, to grey

you are not a hero of old
and you never know 
what things to say

i always have to call twice
before you answer the phone
it's never in your pocket

but warm wind comes in with you
every night, and your neck 
smells like happy memories 

you check the oil twice a month
and you always call back,
even if i left a message,
just in case.

you are not a gleaming jewel,
nor even a diamond in the rough

you are a smoothed and worn stone
deep in my pocket, that warms
more than it weighs down

and for that reason, it stays. 

Saturday, August 14, 2010

i love you

and you don't have to say it back.

Thursday, August 12, 2010


in arabic,

the word for womb means mercy.

Monday, August 9, 2010

swollen hearts.

the river was swollen like a 
woman's body, pregnant
for one week too long, like her
feet would swell under the weight
of a second life, like her belly would
swell as her child turned over in womb.

swollen woman gave birth
at the swollen river,
thighs stretched apart, 
tree roots taking place of 
companion's warm fingers,
lapping water
becoming a medicine woman's 
sure hands.

and the tide took place
of undertaker,
sweeping away 
blood, and with it,
all life.