Florida

Thank you for teaching me

that the best part of living,

of pushing through trials and errors

and breaking down barriers,

of having valleys and mountains

and moments of pure laughter…

the best part of living through blissful days

after rainy days

and the sleepless nights and starlit drives,

the mornings of beach sunrises

and evenings of family dinners with the hard goodbyes…

 

the best part about all of this

is I get to keep all of myself

and all of you.

Healing

And when I was sitting at a dinner table

surrounded with family,

and we were holding our sides

we were laughing so hard,

and it was eyes closed and smiling

and leaning over the edge of our seats laughing,

it was then that I knew.

 

I was finally happy.

I was finally new.

-July 2017 and always

String Lights

I’d like to memorize this moment–

how they all were woven together

beneath the twinkling stars.

Their shiny black hair reflected the setting sun,

and their smiles were happy,

springing from deep within– so much contentment,

 

and so much underlying it.

I can recall the red dress I was wearing,

and the weight I was carrying to be reminded

that I had to leave them in the morning.

 

But I didn’t need to sulk in that sadness.

I only needed to memorize the moment,

to preserve the more important feeling of

how they each reminded me of what mattered:

I had to get on that plane tomorrow

and finish what I needed to do,

and come back home to them

for the next time, indefinitely true.

 

There is purpose to these moments we know

we’ll look back on. When we’re living in them,

thinking, I’m going to miss this.

I’m going to remember this.

These are the defining moments

that highlight our meaning,

our life course, and our purpose.

 

There is so much more to care about beyond ourselves,

more than what is contained within our skin.

These moments tell us what it is.

-October 2017

This is You

It didn’t show,

but the last time you were here

was like a thunderstorm–

and life was much kinder to you then.

 

But this time, it’s sunshine.

And rocket-ships of joy.

They flood the sky in streams of fireworks and stars,

making all shadows vain.

 

Because how much brighter can the sky get?

And here you are, thriving in it.

Resilient no. 2

But then the tightness begins to loosen

with every day, subtly. Slowly.

A smile becomes fuller,

for all types of love

come and fill my heart again:

My grandmother, a good run.

My happy cousins, the ocean.

With each new day and sun,

I begin to forget.

And the idea of forgetting 

isn’t sad anymore.

Because knowing that this thing finally 

gets shined on, burns, and dies,

renews and grows

and you survive

is enough.