When I say I didn’t know I wanted to be a writer, I am full of shit. A few years ago in a dusty box I found my notebooks and journals for the random times I sat down to catch the flow throughout the years. I’ve been writing poetry since 1991, it’s true. I still have the pink spiral notebooks filled with bubble letters, hearts and verses lamenting about my latest crush or the swelling emotions within; proof of where I knew I was headed, someday. Writing hasn’t been a straight path but one hell of a ride as I return to me again and again and again.

My true self is equal parts grit and grace, resilience and compassion, confidence and faith, wild and tranquil. This contrast and contradiction represent the whole; a glittering constellation of all that I am.

Happy Friday, wild things!

Grit and Grace

She’s a wild thing
born of grit and grace
her smile emanating
all that pulses within

A whirlwind, a maelstrom
the infinite becoming
lassoing the storm of words
setting herself free

Born of blood and beauty
this life she creates
time manifest, again and again
bidding adieu to the past
embracing the unfolding
of here and now

You cannot tame a wild thing
don’t hold too tight
but sit and enjoy the expression
her spirit be the guide.

Poems and pink