when I dive into your depths

When I dive into your depths,
exploring the wonders of your ocean floor,
I need to take care how I
resurface
so that my body doesn’t simply
implode.
Yet when I do reach that surface,
I’m still floating on your essence -
I never have to leave you behind.
Like a dolphin, I can’t remain indefinitely
underwater. But if I never dive deep,
I won’t find the sustenance that I need.
My time on the ocean floor
fuels my time on the surface
where I can breathe.

sunrise, sunset

I used to sing about sunrise
and now that sun has set -
watching it burn up the clouds
in a fiery rainbow palette
shadow branches silhouette
in its wake, an inky blue void
swallows up all light until
the darkness gives birth
to the tiny points
of countless distant suns.

Sometimes the music flows
through my veins, moving
the blood cells along their course
to bring oxygen, life itself
to my limbs, circling through
my heart, pulsing with the beat,
synchronized beat.

Whenever I witness beauty in this world,
my thoughts fly to you, holding in their beak
a seed to share with you, singing sweet notes
that help it to grow. You are infinitely interesting
to me, I sing, and I want you to know that
even if I fly away, this tree will never go.

a little girl at my mother's mirror

I am a little girl at my mother's mirror
clumsily applying the angriest shade of red lipstick
my little fingers could find.
"I look all grown up!" I proclaim,
when really, the makeup accentuates
my immaturity.You laugh brightly
as you wipe my face clean.

The plaster mask I hastily formed
to hide behind crumbles in my shaky hands.
“Look, Mommy, it’s okay - I’m still
holding it all together.” But you say,
“Baby, it’s already broken, and
holding it tightly doesn’t make it whole -
it just keeps your hands full of a mess.
If you give it to me, your hands will be free
to hold and make and do great things.
Trust me.” And I let it go.