Tag Archives: Poem

Body

body

I have a body. It’s just a body, just like yours. It has many parts, with many functions. They are not sexual, unless I choose for them to be. You being able to see them does not make this choice. It does not indicate my sexual decisions of past, present, or future. You being able to see them means you can see that I have a body. It’s just a body, just like yours.

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Poetry Hour

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We’re the same, you and I, in so many ways
We connect on that level
I saw you, and knew that from the start.
So I was confused when you held back;
when you slowed down and in so inhibited me, too
The pain and fury of being stuck in this place was more than I could bear
I stared back at you in disbelief-
do I even know you at all?
When, in a moment, a stranger makes themselves known
This stranger, the one who held YOU back
Relief and awe washed over me
I hadn’t misjudged you after all
I had been blind to your plight,
and unknowingly, unwittingly,
agonizing over my own blindness.
I found reverence in our connection once more.
We share a moment of deliverance as we race off together into the horizon.
We are the same, you and I.

“Poem for the Prius in the Left Lane This Morning”

Dear Daughter

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FORWARD: To my daughter, and the daughters of the world, and to people everywhere, who have forgotten this important message. We live in a world with Pinterest wedding boards and romantic comedies, How I Met Your Mother “wife quests” and songs like Meghan Trainor’s “Dear Future Husband”. I’m getting sick of the idea that we’re all waiting around for a partner to come along and make us feel significant. I’m sick of parents who think their daughters should be “treated like a princess” and tell them to accept nothing less from a suitor. (Ditto for sons). This gives them a selfish view of love, and an unrealistic ideal about what a relationship is. To me, this is very wrong. They will either feel inadequate because of their partner’s inability to give them perfect love, or they will feel that their partner is inadequate. Both are incorrect! I’m not going to teach you, baby girl, that you need love from someone else to feel special or to be worth something. You already ARE. So I’m going to teach you how to make others feel this way. 

If you’re ready for love, it’s not because you’re ready for someone to come into your life to make you feel special. It’s because you have ceased to need such a person, and instead, you are ready to be such a person to someone else. Love is not what you get, it’s what you give. Because love, by its very definition, is not about you.

If you’re ready for love, you’re ready to accept a flawed person into your life. You’re ready to face a broken, insecure human being who might never feel adequate, and you’re ready to be there so you can always remind them that they are.

If you’re ready for love, you’re ready to be let down. You’re ready to accept the imperfect love of an imperfect human being, who cannot perfectly love you, even if they completely love you. And you’ll understand that difference, because you’ll imperfectly love them too… and you’ll always remember that, before you start pointing your finger.

If you’re ready for love, it’s because you realize that we grow up in a world which does nothing but judge a person. It’s because you realize that underneath those judgments is a beautiful soul waiting to be seen, and you are ready to see that beauty, embrace it, and nurture it- the way life has not. Because there are no flaws. And you know that.

If you’re ready for love, it’s when you are no longer looking for it, or waiting for it. It’s when you realize you’ve got it. When all you have left to do is give it. Then you’re ready for love.

The Invitation

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It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer*
(*Disclaimer: I should specify that I did not write this, nor can I seem to find a specific author. This poem was very personal and moving for me so I decided to share!)

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Image

In your eyes I see

Their reflections staring back at me;

Naïve, innocent, like mine aren’t-

Believing what falls from those lips

Like we know I never will;

And I envy them

For feeling like they had you.

Rose colored glasses I started to wear

Creep into my mind,

And I miss them-

Who you are was so beautiful

When I loved you.

Words Unspoken

lo
Words Unspoken.

My baby. You’re so beautiful to me. Everything about you makes me want you. I worry that other people will think that too… But why shouldn’t they? Anybody should see that in you. You’re so much of what I’d like to be. To know. To have. To call mine.

My baby. Is love blind? Or are you really so flawless? Your messy hair and scruffy beard.. They make me laugh. You look so good no matter what you do. Your weight goes down and you’re so sexy. Your weight goes up and you’re so sexy. I laugh again, because you think it makes a difference. You’re beautiful, baby.

My baby. How is it that I have found someone who can see and understand even the dustiest corners of my mixed-up soul? You can somehow clear the dust, knowingly, lovingly, and I finally get a glimpse of who I am.

My baby. You’re a shot of some poison, you weaken me and bring me to my knees. Half alive, I come back for another hit; you alone can quench the thirst that you’ve left me with. You’re a drug that I crave; you take me so high I can’t breathe. I crash and you watch me fall.. I vow I won’t give you the satisfaction of watching me surrender my pride for more. But I must concede. I am yours.

My baby. I am yours. I’ve fought it from the start, I fight it still. Oh, let me tire and fall into your embrace, where you’ve been waiting all along. I’d love to be yours, truly and wholly. I’m stubborn, I’m careful, I’m scared- be patient with me. If you couldn’t break me, I wouldn’t be so difficult. Oh, put away all your armor and weapons, so I can be sure I won’t be broken. Say the word, my love, and I’ll put away mine too… they’ve been getting so heavy.

My baby. Be mine. Who else will hold your hands like I do, memorizing every crease and crevice? Who else could hug you like I do, sinking in to every embrace, soaking up your warmth? Who else would kiss you like I do, loving every bit of skin my lips get to touch? I just can’t trust anyone else to love you like I do. Be mine, baby, so I won’t have to.

My baby. These are words unspoken. Yet words unspoken are no less real because I haven’t spoken them. These words unspoken are no less mine because you didn’t hear them from my lips. I hide these words unspoken in my heart, behind my eyes, and in every touch we share. I wish you could know, my baby. That you’re so beautiful to me. Everything about you makes me want you.