Poems for Week 2

Here are my National Poetry Month poems for week 2 -- a little belated as I was on vacation in Detroit and incredibly busy. It is good to feel welcomed at home, then fly home and feel like I have multiple places where I am accepted and loved for who and how I am. I am truly blessed.

April 8
It is warm enough
to have the heat hustle
you awake, but the wind
is a swindler; this is
the time that we all
hopefully underdress...
when we are careless
in leaving the jacket at home
because we are looking
for photosynthesis.
We are budding and
forming our foliage, too.
This year, I will wear
every color I can get
myself into and be the
brightest bird in any nest.

April 9
In high school, James
used to paint at the
laundromat. The unique
machine-controlled swirls
of color must lend themselves
to oil well, because I bought
a painting of his, bursting
with the brightness I wish
everyday could hold.
I don't know if I've ever
seen those hues replicated,
even in nature, and certainly
not in mass-produced dye lots.
I guess laundry day can be
a source of inspiration
and not a chore, after all.

April 10
Time has no boundary
and I have known you
for years longer than the
calendar would mislead
others to believe.
How do I explain to others
that our souls have been
meeting in the ocean
for centuries, that the
first time you said
my name it was in
our native tongue.
Why should anyone ever
have to explain love?

Those of us who are
blessed enough to be
in its arms should know
that words fall flat
in the face of forever,
and that the promise of
always is not nearly
long enough to love you
properly.

April 11
This place is my heart
living outside of my body.
The walls are made of
the people I hold dear,
the windows are photos
of Huron river landscapes,
of 96 and the Lodge,
of the train station's skeleton,
but the roof is my
protective force field,
sealing weather and
wounds alike.

April 12
what happens when
your dream changes
shape, becomes a dragon
breathing fire under you?
when I can recognize it
in its new form, but the
world sees only differences,
not the sameness of our stride?
when people tell me that
I have changed, that I have
transformed into a new being,
but I still see myself in
every reflective surface?
are we not allowed to grow,
to deepen our desires as
we overflow with all
we now know?

April 13
Sacrifice is a sacred secret,
but we are both burning
with the rituals we have
created, and heading headlong
into uncharted waters.
We can swim in our severed
service of old ideals, or we
can boldly brave the horizon
and remember that risk is
necessary for new rituals
to rise. Let's make this a
perfect prayer, and praise
the miracles within
and without.

April 14
your mind begins to unravel
when you unhinge yourself
from its focus. when you love
others first, you cannot
always remember the details...
but every love takes
precedence over my own
need to be loved. by giving,
i hope to open up new
avenues of reception.