A narrative poem I did with my middle school students last year.
the castle gate stood tall and menacing
vines climbing up like blood vessels
creeping and reaching in all directions
along the walls and past the edge of sight Continue reading “Prisoner”
From the Amherst Writing Workshop I participated in in 2019. Originally published on my old blog on July 3, 2019.
What matters, then…
What matters, then
is the words on the paper.
The ink from the pen.
The white spaces between the dark lines.
What matters is the meaning.
The good. The bad.
The unconsciousness calling out to be heard.
What matters, then is the sound
of your own voice
reading the words inside your head.
The ambiguity of the ideas
that spring forth.
What matters then, is the idea.
The words imbued in yourself.
In your knowing of life
and God and the Universe.
You move through the spaces
of the world like words
on a page
Ink in the pen
flowing out of the tip to mark
the worldpage and let it know
you were here.
Your breath stirs the winds of change
when you speak of injustice, of hope, of fear
Your feet move like planets
around a sun, a path that consists of
light and dark
hope and heartbreak
Hate and regret
Like a fish out of water
you gasp for air
for company to ease the loneliness
What matters, then is that
are not alone
Your loneliness is of your own making
You can validate yourself
No one can do that for you
What matters, then is that heartbreak
is just as important as hope
Hate is just as important as love
injustice is as important as justice
There can be no light without dark
What matters, then is everything.