The Gifts I am Given

The mirror  that I look

at myself in is

old

dark

fractured

wavy

distorted

The Everyday You

I’m in love with the every day you
hair pulled back
and green tennis shoes
blue jeans and tee shirt
under your nails – still – the dirt
from the garden full of roses
in bloom –
I’m in love with the everyday you

Where Was I?

 

(Photo credit: photosylvia / silabox…occupée)

Where was I for all of those years
When all I could focus on were all of my fears?
I couldn’t make contact, I couldn’t embrace,
I couldn’t look at anyone, square in the face.
I stuttered and stammered with shyness so tense,
I couldn’t show up with any sense of intent.
I couldn’t express my thinking–
Did I even have thoughts?
I was stuck in a place behind a self-made prison wall.