For Hannah

Anymore I find myself caught between a cliff and the sea; trapped in between the majestic and the serene. Yet, the fear of falling lingers.

Perhaps we all just live to move forward. To find answers. To create questions. We’re caught in a balance teetering from love to lost and from hopeful to helpless. We just crawl through life day by day, going about our daily routines, picking the scabs and beating the bush – not really knowing where we stand.

Or where we will fall.

But we continue to see the pain and struggles, adapt and recover, and pretend everything is okay. We don’t forgive or forget, just ignore. A simple median we excuse as acceptable, until once again we meet the same cliff and start stumbling away.

But we’ll be okay.

We’ve fought and we’ve lived. We’ve been bruised and battered and torn between one another in matters of faith and belief without the need for approval.

In the end we are rebels. A fight to a cause much bigger than ourselves, not in deity or mass, but in mind and in body. We uphold our weaknesses and rip them apart. Perhaps, we’ve been living with meaning after all; a meaning bone deep and as personal to us as our scars.

We are only human. We fight to live, live to love, and love to let go.

So we let go. We do not fear our cliffs or embrace our oceans. We simply stand idle on a perfect balance of pleasure and beauty. And fear.

We never let our boundaries bind us. We tear our minds from our bodies and soar to a greater purpose. No choice we make, no heart we crush, nor any tears we shed could push us down from our cliffs and under our seas.

This Is My World

Why do your words deceive me with your shallow quotations
of this and that, in between and far from?
Life isn’t your fortress alone, not only your Great Wall,
but his, hers, theirs, and mine too.
Share with me, what is aloft, in realistic pretenses,
and forget, relive and untie connections.

Allow me this once to fend for myself and do what I must;
for me, not you, not him, not her, not them.
I alone can shake my world, crumble my downfalls and build,
resurrect my own statue, memorial, or grave.
I’ll write my own story with myself as the plot that I see,
and I’ll twist, converge and recreate my dream.

So your words cannot deplete my structure or my foundation,
they cannot blind, hinder or destroy me.
Although this world stands against myself, against you,
I know my path and will walk it calmly.
With you or against you – as my enemy, friend, or as no one at all,
I can ride my pride, my faith, my dignity – all alone.


I implore you now
to look up towards the sky
and see a world you hold
high above in your dreams.
reach up and grab it
and pull it carefully down
just close enough
that you may grab it,
and inspire your world
to be more than a dream.

You, ‘Alone’

You’re looking out into a vast opening
The world beyond is filled with obstacles.
What do you see?
The faceless crowd stalks your every move,
all you feel is pain, all you see is them.
Your blind to the reality of what life is,
just standing still facing your ocean
– your faceless crowd.
Your path is blocked by a mob,
all the while your shame and pity consumes you.
You just hope every stranger moves along;
its you, and you alone, against the crowd.
No hope, no help, no hurt – so long as…
So long as you alone face the crowd.

With A Crooked Smile

Who’s to blame,
I wonder who will let you in.
But I don’t understand why
You speak words with a crooked smile…
And claim it feels better to be alone.
I wonder what its like to be empty,
Your world swallowed in lies and blistered faces.

I wonder, I wonder what its like
To stand at the scene of the crime
Glancing upon your victim with glorious shame.
I don’t understand your mind, what you say.
I wonder, are you aware… I daresay,
That your face is hidden beyond recognition,
Beyond your crooked smile?

With Patience

I’m scared to look ahead,
Yet I fold my arms waiting.
Don’t you see I’m speaking,
It’s sad that you don’t hear me.
The peace that puts my mind to rest,
Lays with these words I share in hope;
Hope that builds while
My arms rest, folded, waiting.
Am I wrong? To wait in turn,
For my return, an end to patience?
It seems I’m the sorrow to blame,
If I could just let go I could find a way.
Is it really because I’m the one waiting,
With pent up words flowing down
Telling me I am the one who’s wrong?

Still I bow my head, fold my arms,
And sit motionless, waiting.
Those daunting words speak
With hollow tones in my mind’s cage,
Evermore waiting.


These moments disperse the pain,
As truth becomes my conviction
And my every utterance a cry for help.
Amidst my pondering and anguish
I find my purpose, that sense of calamity
That brushes away every ounce of pity.
Now this entanglement of my mind
Becomes a fierce passion to correct,
Dignify and prove myself against an attack,
That, in the end, only brings me down.
I can remain whole again to fight and survive
This bitter contact once more.