After eight years of oftentimes grueling work, I am so happy to announce that my memoir, The Borderland Between Worlds, is forthcoming, in early 2020, from Auctus Publishers. Thank you, Krish Singh, for publishing writers underrepresented in publishing!
just what appears to be
but even those things
one day must fade
every bit taken away
– the only power within those
seemingly perfect things is
that for one brief moment,
they really had been.
She welcomed the end
of summer’s oppression,
the pressure under, over, everywhere
having cooked her from within.
In summer, the sun weighed
down, disheartening from dreams,
while the wandering, distracted mind
meandered, wished to be someplace else,
wished to be free, somewhere else
where she was listened to, was esteemed,
someplace else where she never had to fear
being suspect for being something
less than ideal. That place she wanted to welcome
on hot skin like a perfectly cool breeze.
Searching in cities, walking aimlessly,
looking for the past, she breathed in
remembering what she used to be,
believing, supportive, sweet.
Scanning faces futilely, she braced herself
for the realization that they really
weren’t the same faces though they appeared to be.
The ghosts haunting her wouldn’t easily
be excised, the torture of what could have been
will always continue to stay within.
If someone isn’t rich,
find another with funds,
silver, diamonds, gold,
enough to see you through.
If he’s not cold enough,
with no head to fend off
the brutality of life,
then find a man who feels less
who does what he must, giving out
pink slips left and right. When she’s not
young enough, cut your ties, give a divorce
leave your first wife. Not skinny enough,
find someone thin, someone who fills the
metaphorical hole in your heart,
and who helps you fit in
for love’s never set in stone,
so go through as many as you need
till you find the one. Till you find
true love in the twenty-first.
We stood in front of an encompassing pool,
blue and beautiful.
The path to the water’s center,
a platform for our confessions and truths
while liquid remained, bubbles cascading.
At once, we jumped in, forgetting
everything, becoming what we used to be
before the sorrow seeped through.
When you think it can’t,
that it won’t come
with nothing in sight,
just night in front of you,
it do, it do come through,
the smallest strand
of light in darkness
just barely enough
to see you through.