Sunday, November 12, 2017


one speck in an organized world
one dot in a blank page
one note in a symphony
one pulse in a living being

your mind stirs like a galaxy in a bowl
ceramic, clattering, the war of two worlds
you are inside one, slipping out the other
inside you go after a ticket into your mind

brighter, brighter you will gather and
harness the energy built inside you
becoming a magnet of beauty and hope
until the strings of space pull taut

there are crashes, are there not?
failed explorations and uncharted destinations
the debris of doubt floats idle in your head
but they are always cleared in the end

footsteps land on foreign planets
flags break its stiff desolate ground
radios program crackling laughter
hearts are raised, millions of lightyears away

the cosmos is indefinitely infinite
but you will make your mark
in between gaps of clouds and dust and rocks
floating in a celestial oasis

here and there


Wednesday, November 1, 2017

her heart in your hands

Oh look there's another one. 

A female.

Immediately my mind seeks out every single thing wrong with her.
Her face is too round. Her eyes are... what is wrong with them? Ah yes, they're too large for her face. Her nose is squat. Her hair looks terrible like that. 

And that dress?? As if I would EVER wear anything that short. And to church?
Gosh is she terrible. 

And her legs don't even look that good. 
She's really kind of fat.
I bet she's really a terrible person and she's only coming to Mass because she has to. 
Wow good thing I'm not like her. 

three seconds
that's all it took

to dissect a person
lay them bare

three words
that's all it took

to pass it on
look at her

three seconds

that's all you need

to decide who's worthy
who is dirt

three words
that's all it takes

to stop the murder
you look pretty

three seconds

is all she needs

to see the
in your eyes

this has to stop.
I have to stop.

we have to stop.

she is our sister.

and we are slowly killing her.

every female we see from newborn to dying is our sister and we are digging a knife into her heart

we are forcing her hand to the knife that will pierce her own skin
we are handing the gun to her trembling hand,
we are tying the noose.

for God's sake stop this madness before it's too late.

dear friend,
what you just read is not pretty. it isn't funny, it isn't a joke, and you probably know it.
what you read is my own thoughts.
and i'm not condemning anyone, i'm admonishing myself.
i'm sharing this because this mutual disgust and critical eye women seem have for each other needs to stop.  

we are women. we are beautiful and we are bold and we are fearless. we are protective and gentle and loving.
but we are powerless when it comes to another person dissecting us and uncovering us and ridiculing us. 
so why be the hand that gives the weapon when you can be the one to throw it away and save the heart that's dying.