patterns


I feel the strength-
it starts to drip through my bones
like sweet honey…
I taste it on the tip of my tongue.

The world doesn’t see
like I do. Doesn’t hear
what I hear. Doesn’t
fall in love with
what has always been there.
My existence is in another place-
so I break free.

I take these steps these days
like they are part of a pattern-
already designed-determined-delicate.
I find faith in all that I love,
where I find my truth.
Where I can breathe.
My voice breaks free.

I find magic in what I believe.
You can see it in my eyes-
when I suddenly realize
that I’ve joined everyone else’s..
unanimous unified utopia of uselessness.
My eyes break free.

I find worth in life
that isn’t planned, isn’t preoccupied, isn’t pressured, isn’t pure, isn’t pretend, isn’t probability, isn’t precise, isn’t always precious, isn’t poor, isn’t prescribed, isn’t persuasive, isn’t always understood.
The pattern of my heart breaks free.

mis-matched


free-
style-mismatched clothes
mismatched feet
mismatched nose
she dances through discussions
a drifter in the night
another face
another delirious sight
free-
mind-her own
values, beliefs,
truth be known
changes drip through her veins
like syrup from trees
her arms stretch wide
pure beauty-the land of the
free-
ly-she goes
different paths
different people
different tones
her hair-tangled in the wind
her hands-wrinkled and strong
she skips through these moments
exactly where she belongs

pedaling

blue cotton dress
blowing off my sticky knees
I pedal as fast as I can
to clear my mind of clutter-
no certain direction
no need to be anywhere
just gliding to the sounds of silence
my hair tangling in gusts of wind
my tires creating rhythm
the hot pavement-my map
house lights and stars
light my way-light my eyes
no clocks to block my view
the moon tells me to keep going
safely shining through this dark night
calming the patterns of thoughts
that tempt me to lose my focus
I’m smiling at letting it go
this is my night song-
my way to come down-
back to my house I fly
through the thick air
ready to fall into sleep
I’m breathing deep again
just a girl free from the
meaningless monotony
let me tell you about
the therapy
an old-beat-up
over-used
rusty red
bicycle
can bring