Today's Burden

this is the last one
for today
it's more
than i've written in months

i've just watched
horrified
and let none of it penetrate
my heart

how can those two simultaneously occur?

when so much horror
has swept over you that you can observe
and recognize
how ugly the reality is

and still
take your shower
brush your hair
make your coffee
kiss your husband
and teenage son
and drive to work

where you do your best
to be your best
and give your all
and make a difference
where you can, when you can

making a crying child stop
eliciting smiles because you made someone else's life
easier. for a moment.
seeing the look of gratitude,
when someone you know carries an unbearably heavy load
has shared a small bit of it with you
because at least today, at least for a moment
you have the will
to carry the burden

you don't know how far
how long

you do it while you can
while it's yours to do

until some day you lay it down
and pray that someone will be around
to do the job.

Pour It Out

i used to write in threes.
three poems, or sort of,
back to back
eyes closed
i let it pour out of me,
i didn't try to interfere
didn't stop to spellcheck or erase,
edit or analyze.

i just tipped the cup
and let it pour
and then when finished,
i would slap down my laptop top
and sigh
a breath of relief
knowing that now since the words were no longer bottled in me
they were trapped on a digital page
inside the circuits
inside the casing of my apple-kissed, aluminum mouth
they didn't have to torture me anymore
they didn't have stick in my gullet
rotting away,
the acid seeping through my stomach lining
and the acid sitting at the back of my throut
and the tendency of my brows
to sail towards each other
in consternation

all this
all this thought
making manifest in my vulnerable body

i've seen it take hold of me
change my chemistry

i've seen it creep along my skin
and cause bumps itching
redness, rawness
as if the rawness of my soul
was making itself manifest

and people would say
you need to chill out,
drink some peppermint tea,
take deep breaths
they would say
do some yoga
some downward facing dog
will straighten you right out

i remember when every morning
brought with it dread––
a panic that if i got out of bed,

i would have no idea where to go from there.

bad times.

i wrote my way to health
and now i'm writing again
and i think
it's a preventative measure.

Rigged (on the death of Elie Wiesel)

When will the world learn?

Angry about aging.
Angry about nothing ever changing.
Rigged systems, trickle down economics
and nothing trickling on us

silly rabbit
these tricks were made for kids
with a capital K
the ones living
up on a Hill

whose sons never go to war
just stanford and harvard
making friends whose friends will all
be somebody some day

my son, yes, he's white
and still
had a momma with no desire
to live off the backs of others

i ran away down south
dropping out the only way i knew how
i joined the 3rd world willingly
and laugh about it now
knowing noone from there
would do such a crazy dumb ass senseless thing

as give up luxury
give up running clean water
give up macdonalds in all its forms
and tarjetas de credito

at 20%
25%
that's .25 for every dollar.

and we're back to the rigged system.

in which you can't get ahead
you can only get behind
and

i'm angry at my scowling face
angry the beauty that's lost
drowned in anxiety
trying to feed my family

i want nirvana...NOW.
i want messiah...NOW.
i want to know how to be in the world

seeing as how there's no world
that will have me.

no matter in which one i find myself
i'm only playing at being
wondering when
my real life is ever gonna start.