The Gifts I am Given

The mirror  that I look

at myself in is

old

dark

fractured

wavy

distorted

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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.