Wow

How many years

Days

No months

Let’s start in chronological order

I forgot the order

How does it go again?

Eyes fuzzy

Wet

Too tired to think

To write

Back aches

Belly bloated

No energy for this

For life

For the return key

Or backspace

To do it all over again

I don’t think that I would

And I’ll just leave it at that-

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I’m Back

It takes hours and hours of boredom
and a casual scroll through tumblr
to remind me that I am a poet!
I have not written a word in months,
possibly years
sometimes starting a poem in my head
and not liking how it sounds
backspacing in my mind
to the beginning until there’s nothing left
and the image of my future poem is
blank again
left with nothing
without even restarting
except in loneliness,
or in a quiet moment of recollection
I remember again to type my poem
in my head
and the cycle continues
write, erase, delete
write, erase, de…
And yet somehow here I am
putting the dismembered pieces back together
nothing like the original
partially probably maybe definitely
how it was supposed to be
my insidious brain tricking me
into thinking that I have any control
over how any of this ever
turns out–

Waiting

Waiting for you to come
it’s been 9 months
but in this moment
it feels longer than a lifetime
like many of them
all bunched up
a slinky in a box
waiting to expand
and when you do
it will be like
another universe
unfolding
tiny and large
all at the same time
like the spindle that
ran ceaselessly in my head
at 6 years old
forcing me to
sleep with my mother
making her worry
if her child was alright
or if anyone would ever
sleep soundly
again–

Birds

The birds were flying everywhere
They came to me in
An email
“Come
Flock to bbg
And see what we have to offer your
Chickadees”
So we showered
And dressed
And drove to
Hear a story badly told
Our roost
Moving quickly to the nest building table
Two brown eggs were made
Symbolizing the dove’s creative and feminine energies
And arriving back home
There were two pruning
Sitting on my fire escape
Red bellies
I took a few pics and sent them to my dad
He said very surely they are
Doves
My totem
For femininity
Birth
Prophecy
A day of
Messages to let us know
We’re right where we belong
And
You are right here with us
The freedom
To be ourselves
And keep going

Women’s Circle

Standing in a women’s circle 

in June of 2012

I stood across from you 

knowing that you would be my mentor 

on the beginning of this new 

and long journey 

You gifted me a soft pink, white and 

wine colored pashmina scarf

The ones they sell on tables

in the city 

on cold corners

to passersby who decide to stop and peruse

You told me as you handed it to me

it was gifted to you

when you were pregnant

by a woman

who had recently given birth 

and little did I know then 

and for years to come 

how this would be the beginning of a 

very long cycle 

of birthing and rebirthing 

both physically, emotionally 

and spiritually 

for me 

and for us 

My little Victoria is here 

and now comes another 

Sweet angel

who picked me 

who was handed down to me 

by the divine

to watch over and guide

my internal

Mother Earth 

Creating 

Healing 

Gifting 

all

the 

time–

You

You are probably
the 3rd person to suggest, no-
FORCE the idea into my existence that
this is what my new life will be
a life you don’t have much to do with
except through your looking glass
the life you are not growing at all.
it’s not your body
it’s not your place to say
I would assume
you know much better than this
3 ladies
one
two
three–
what gives you the right to
even think
you can think
about what goes inside the womb
this womb
that does not belong to you?
having dreams
solving mysteries
predicting
as if it’s all some fun, early evening
game show…?
I’d like to be left alone
the quietude of my tan blanket
and new sheets
warmth of the surrounding material
encapsulating my skinny bones
my threadbare arms
my naked feet
waiting for the gift to come
some silence
and then
you–

Possibility

Sitting here
contemplating ways to keep busy
I am reminded of the
endless boredom
of teenage  years long past
prisoner on my living room floor
1,000 mile (yard) stare
into the horizon of nothingness
no faith in the future
No idea of what would happen
My feeble imagination could not
fathom anything else and yet
here we are

What feels so stale is
in fact
as fresh as it will ever be
until tomorrow
when I will continue to meet
a new
me–

 

New

Standing at the 

Precipice 

of eternity 

Once again

I catch a glimpse into 

Your big tiny heart 

Wondering what 

collective name we will give

You

What heaven you will come from 

What star will you

Tell the story of 

What footprint 

Will you leave 

When your page

Is written 

When your work 

is finally done? 

Disgusting water bug

You creepy crawly

Just roll in 

Perfect timing for Halloween

The sight of you makes my skin crawl

And my body jump

The idea of breathing doesn’t exist

As I fly from one room to the next 

Bounding over furniture and baby gates

To the safety of my snugly warm bed

Still slightly scared 

Still slightly nervous 

That you will get me in here–

Bake

Picturing you 

A dream 

Awake

The kind of child

I will always love

The kind of womb 

That takes its time

The kind of creation

That crinkles in the eyes 

A love supreme 

A masterpiece 

Divine–