tinybluedots

[tinybluedots]

snowflakes

blurred faces pass you by,

scrolling scenery,

and I am amidst

the strangers you see

all my burdens,

lost on you,

any path I've walked,

any troubles I've faced--

tears shed,

stories told,

weight carried--

yet I am

but a stranger you pass in the street

I blend in

to the background,

a sliver of kaleidoscope,

dizzying to view individually,

only will you watch the whole

swirl around you,

a tiny blip of intrigue, interest, dismissal

in your day

I am

perhaps

beautiful

radiant

mysterious

intelligent

pale-looking

tired

quiet

shy,

and yet,

perhaps,

to you

I may not even be me--

but someone else entirely

I am the blip,

I am the floater,

blur,

passer-by,

stranger

I may exist

only in concept,

idea,

fantasy,

stereotype

to you

such is a quiet embrace--

the humility of being unknown,

comfort in being strange:

wonderfully made,

significantly insignificant--

even the most intricate of flakes

come from the same snow.

-k.

[tinybluedots]

butterflies have two wings

two flowers

blooming together,

roots connected

in fruitful soil

facing the sun,

drinking crystal droplets—

rainfall melting

our petals

together

our hues

different,

complimentary

shades of green—

we pulse,

bass shakes the earth,

inner, deeper

rhythm

shaking and shifting,

dancing to the notes

on the wind,

sheet music

composed for two,

perfect harmony

as we flow in the breeze,

leaves graze each other

sensually

ever-connected,

even the petals we shake off

ride together

in the air,

twirl around

one another,

playfully

bump into each other,

exploring

rainforests,

oceans,

and deserts alike

we stop to drink

geyser waters,

float along rushing streams

just because,

ride upon

the winds of songbirds—

they sing greetings,

appraisals for those

who travel in pairs

we sink to the ground below,

sometimes,

flip end over end

along grassy hills,

skip over rocks,

fold into each other

gazing upon sunsets

and awaking,

rolled into one,

to magnificent sunrises,

whisper to each other

about the stars,

naming some,

creating stories and tales

for others—

which stars

secretly admire

other stars,

what family drama

exists in those constellations,

engage in heated discussion

about why that star is flickering

as you insist

it must be a planet

we pick up

wherever we leave off,

thrilled

not to travel solo

anymore—

we believe

the ark

was packed in two’s

for a reason—

even butterflies have two wings.

yours,

-k.

[tinybluedots]

happiness is the hand in yours

happiness

is not

a girl to be pursued—

if you make her

a conquest,

she will never be yours

to hold

if you believe

you must chase her,

she will always be,

in your eyes,

the one that got away,

the wild girl in town

who runs around

with everyone but you—

and you’ll say

“there she goes”—

and weep bitterly

into your bowl of ice-cream

remember this—

she is the lady

you’re already walking with—

did you forget about

your girl?

turn to her

and notice

how she has always

stood by you.

she gave her hand to you,

interlaced her fingers

with yours

and made vows with you,

whether you heard her or not

do not demand

from her,

do not tell her

she has to look

a certain way;

is her beauty

contingent

on what she wears?

stop telling her

“I’ll be happy when—”

learn to love her

unconditionally

every moment

an opportunity

a choice

to look at her

and say,

“my, you are beautiful today, darling,

I’m so glad

to call you mine.”

-k.

[tinybluedots]

figurative fingerpainting

falling through

cotton candy clouds,

rainbow prisms,

light beams

flowing all around me,

within me

have you ever

tasted

the color purple?

each pillow

of fluff

I float on,

sings out

a

xylophone chime,

each note

a delicate,

ornate

expression of love

I am certain, too,

each cloud

has a name—

unique and special,

purposeful

who am I

to be

an enjoyer,

a delighter,

a beholder?

who am I

to be given

eyes of the heart

seeking

beauty within

and always

nevertheless

I am playful,

gentle and bold

like

impressionist pastels—

tender hues of color

layered heavily

on canvas,

every brushstroke

intentional,

meant to be

around the corner

from surrender

is a library

full of dreams,

epiphanies galore

and it is all free

shutting the door

on distraction

or my old need to control—

to open the door

to inspiration,

of creation

that flows

almost without notice

always a new concept

new perception

new idea

springing up—

saplings of imagination,

every day

I learn

new ways

of handing over the paintbrush

or putting it down altogether—

figurative fingerpainting.

dip my hands

in the paint

just to see

what happens

let yourself play,

I’ll tell my children—

this is the everlasting spirit

of childlike wonder

every gift

sent from the skies,

though I’ll never quite know

just why I was given

the title

of recipient.

-k.

[tinybluedots]

kept

I have heard people say

that falling in love

changes everything—

I never knew

how true that was

until it happened to me.

and how greater still

is falling

for You.

spending time with You,

is like walking in a dream.

Where my inspiration

had weakened,

You gave to me,

among so many blessings—

pure imagination,

the kind I had

as a little kid.

tonight

I did

a little happy dance

as I prepared my candles

and filled my tub with bubbles,

excited to be still—

something I never knew

before.

In a world filled

with distraction,

I used to feel restless,

always seeking

instant gratification

from things unsustainable.

mindlessly,

technology,

I’ve seen,

became less of a tool

and more of a lifestyle,

a way of living—

painful,

to see beings

of great love

and creativity

living their lives

secondary,

vicariously through screens,

drowning in commercialism,

consumerism,

and I too

was

filling the void

with empty calories

and wondering

why

my stomach still growled.

I can’t even say

I found You,

found Your peace,

Your truth,

because really,

You found me.

amidst floating bubbles

and warm candlelight,

I closed my lids

and saw

more

than my eyes ever could.

I saw myself as a bird,

weaving through the air,

wind trailing behind me,

sinking in the sky

and then soaring back up,

dancing to the music—

every banking turn,

every rotation,

every plummet,

every rise

a thank You,

an I love You—

I smiled with my wings.

then I noticed

there were more of us,

and we were trailing

music notes behind our tailfeathers,

dropping to the ground

like water over a wildfire.

and the vision changed again,

too.

I saw

how grey the world is,

shadows hanging over

the hearts of many—

and I saw a raincloud,

only brightly colored,

hovering over me,

over others,

here and there,

and instead of falling rain,

our clouds were sunburst,

spilling rainbow colors

all around us

and over us,

and as we talked with people,

laughed with them,

loved on them,

their greys pulsed

heartbeats of color,

slowly coming back to life.

and I saw

myself dancing;

You placed a crown

on my head,

and I wore flowing robes

of white,

with a scarf draped over my elbows.

barefoot I danced

in a field of wildflowers,

and this, too, changed

as I saw

this shimmering,

dancing self

almost transparent,

like a holograph

always accompanying

my ‘regular’ self—

I saw myself

walking around

in blue jeans

and scuffed Vans,

all the while

shimmering,

glowing,

flowing in a brilliant dance

beneath the surface,

and I saw the dancer,

as if You were showing me

how You see me—

and I spun around,

dipped and swayed,

pulling brightly-hued flowers

from the ground

to give to everyone I meet,

watching them grow back up

as soon as I plucked them—

Your endless beauty.

Soaking in water,

bathing in Your presence,

I lost track of myself

as I have seen me

and found myself in awe,

laughing with You,

like we shared an inside joke,

as You spoke Your thoughts over me,

and flooded my heart

with You

instead of me.

I watched You move,

animated like stained glass,

and I was knelt at Your feet.

I kissed them

and wet them with my tears,

and watched

as You bent down

and lifted my head up,

tilting my chin

and the view changed—

tears spilled over

as I laughed—

You looked at me

and suddenly

I saw myself:

little kid,

flowing hair

green eyes that sparkle with adoration,

smiling up at You

You took my hand

and we walked together.

And then You introduced me

to Aida,

only we were both

small children,

and You urged us

to go play,

a Father delighting in His children—

we were jumping on trampolines

and Nick was there, too—

we made a treehouse

and ran around together

in the grass

and I thought about

how You created

fireflies

just for catching—

equipped with mason jars,

we did just that.

I thought about

how we get

our childlike spirit

from You—

not only a loving, nurturing Father,

but You have the heart of a child, too,

I thought how

You like being a little kid with us;

I think

You like to run and play, too.

and I started

to truly see

the people I know,

no matter their age

or role in my life,

as children too—

I chuckled considering

the kinds of kids they’d be

on the playground;

You,

building

my compassion—

something

I’d like to teach my children

one day:

to view everyone

as children.

losing track of time,

floating with You,

I whispered so joyfully,

“thank You,”

and You grinned at me

and said,

“of course, ya crazy kid,”

and ruffled my hair

as I grinned back at You

my heart

was a broken dish,

with many cracks

and splinters,

and like the potter,

You filled those pieces

with gold,

stronger

and more beautiful

than before—

Your grace made me whole,

and Your love washes my dish

and keeps it safely

who knew

what freedom

could come from

being kept?

I am no one,

but

I am everything

to You

You make insignificance significant,

my lovely King.

forever Yours,

k.

https://operationuprisenow.com/

[tinybluedots]

love's whisper

some nights

I wrestle with the voice of doubt

some nights

I feel the worry of a mother,

as I lay

curled in the smallest ball

I can manage

listening to my own cries

ringing out,

tears like oceans

that pull crashing waves from my lips

heavy rains

rocking my soul,

and the loudest voice in my head

says about you,

“you couldn’t want me,

how could you?

how could anyone?”

I have hunted

through dark and cobwebbed mazes

in my mind

to find the culprit,

to find the one

who dares to scream

I am not good enough,

I will never measure up—

I have seen the face

to the voice,

the one that lies,

steps on my dreams

like old gum on the sidewalk—

it is thin

and starving,

so it tries

on hard days,

particularly the ones

when I miss you so terribly,

to feast on opportunity,

to use my heart’s

precarious position

against me

when I am missing you

the most,

when I cover my face

to drown out the sobs,

pulled from a place

of wondering

if I could really be

in your heart

the way you are in mine,

the creature in me,

hungry in the midst of

sunny days,

joy and hope,

finds its voice

just enough

to utter through parched lips—

“you are not good enough”

“why would he love you?”

“you’ve made so many mistakes”

I have heard this voice

since I was a child,

always felt

I must be

an outsider,

outcast,

psycho,

must be

insane

but one thing I’ve learned

is the louder I hear

the voice of doubt,

the louder I hear

the voice of love.

funny

how doubt must scream

at the top of its lungs

to be heard,

and only comes out to play

in moments of weakness,

while love has hardly

to whisper

for me to be swept away.

and the tears

don’t burn

like they used to,

only caress my cheeks

and pool tenderly in my eyes—

and in the moments,

on the days

when the sun in my eyes

is clouded,

on the nights

when my heart

longs to be wrapped in yours,

when my body

feels more weak,

older than it should,

weary from the journey

spent apart,

aching for your loving touch,

when my perception

is a lonely dream,

the kind where I watch you

disappear around corners,

and no matter how fast I run,

never seem to be quick enough

to reach you,

where I am teased

with glimpses of you

only to watch you dissipate,

on the nights

when my heart feels

that going on without you

by my side

is pointless,

when everything just seems

stupid

without you,

when, no matter what I do,

my heart seems to say

“what’s the difference?”

because

anything

and everything

means nothing

without you,

without at least

the hope

that we will come together

again someday—

for if I ever lost that,

my will

to live,

dramatic as it may sound,

would surely go with it

on those kinds of nights,

when I’m sure

it must be easier

for you to run away,

to leave,

must be better for you

to drop my weight

and go on,

on those kinds of nights,

it takes a little more attention,

a little more elbow grease,

but I always arrive

back

at the truth

that exists in love,

and the grace I did not earn.

I arrive

back at the truths

of love,

like how love is devoted—

never quitting,

never giving up.

like how love is patient—

always waiting,

with a kind smile.

like how love is kind,

how love is giving,

how love is gentle,

and graceful,

and forgiving,

like how love challenges us—

to overcome,

to stay the course,

to push ourselves,

to encourage,

to smile after a weeping cry,

to stand back up after falling,

to explore,

to go where nothing else can

(boldly so, like Star Trek, hehe)

how love does not falter

does not waver,

is always prevailing,

is always true,

is everlasting

and never failing.

arriving back here,

a place only your heart, only your spirit

can travel to—

can travel with—

is like

being away from home

and being celebrated

upon return.

I have lived

enough to know,

no matter the distance

I go,

the miles I’ve walked

on aching

and battered feet,

however lost

in the cold

I have felt,

every step

is undone,

every wrong

made right

when Love

Himself

smiles at me

-k.

https://operationuprisenow.com/

[tinybluedots]

jump in - friendship

you bring out

a wild in me

and I bring out

a gentle in you

magnets

polar opposites

in many ways,

though we’re made

the same

are you scared

of the softness in me?

do my gentle eyes

weigh you down—

does it hurt somehow

to think

someone loves you

just for you?

is it nerve-wracking

to consider

I do not want anything from you

that I seek nothing

but you

is it intense

to know

that I want no substitute

that you cannot fulfill

my desire for you

by buying me things

or playing a role

that I want

only you

is it intense

to know

that your name

and yours alone

is written on a card,

set at a table for two,

and that I will not leave

no matter

who tells me I should,

that I will wait

does my care concern you?

does my passionate gaze ache?

is affection

such a foreign joy,

my love?

is it easier

to push it away

because closeness

would be

like salt on a wound,

cleansing

but painful

have you felt

as I have before,

the way

bliss

can drown you—

are you still afraid

to swim in the waters?

you can forget

the wild winds of the surf,

darling,

and dive peacefully

among the corals

beneath the surface

I hope you know

I understand

if that’s where you are.

I have been there, too,

and I am so proud

of how far you have come—

I know your journey

has been long,

tiresome,

heart-breaking

do not discredit

how far you have travelled,

the blows you’ve gotten up from,

the storms that raged so violently,

all you could do

was ride them out

and know in your heart,

love does not leave,

and even if

all you feel you are ready for

is dipping your feet

in the water,

I will sit right beside you

until the day

you look over at me,

smile,

and jump in.

yours,

k.

[tinybluedots]

I Just Do

used to think

some things

were crazy,

in my head

I remember

getting frustrated

when the words wouldn’t come

the way I needed them to,

feeling

disappointed with myself

that I couldn’t always

say what I needed to so badly,

couldn’t always

find words

to express

just what it was

I was feeling,

especially

when it came to you.

had never felt

as deeply

as I have felt

with you.

at the time

I didn’t know

how to be

gentle

with myself,

used to think

I had to have

everything figured out

all the time

and when I didn’t,

I fired

accusations at my heart—

didn’t know how to let myself

be a beginner,

how to let myself

be new,

new at letting go,

new at trying,

new at falling—

both down and in

thought

I must be stupid,

if I couldn’t

express

all the time

the roiling emotion

within,

how my heart

could feel

both wildly powerful,

beating out of control for you,

and somehow, too,

so weak,

brought to my knees—

heart pumping out a song

for you

even as jelly legs

threatened to collapse beneath me,

terrified that somehow

I would betray

what my heart

was shouting so loud—

pulse thundering your name

with a bass

that nearly

shattered me completely

mind tried

to out-logic

my love,

as if

she

ever needed a reason—

like someone asking

“why do you love him?”

as if

waiting

to disqualify me—

only

a set-up

for failure,

an attempt

to point

and say,

“see, you don’t know what you’re talking about,”

as if

love needs to make sense,

as if

she could ever be

disqualified,

as if

we’re not allowed to feel it

unless we know

exactly how to define it,

unless we are

perfect

in our expression of it

truthfully, she is so innate,

so first-nature

natural,

so beyond definition,

we should never

expect ourselves

to know the fullness

of her mysterious nature,

should never expect

love to make sense

to fit the limitations

of language,

to be pinpointable,

definable,

explainable,

devotion lost

in a world

that says

love should look like this,

love should look like that,

when, really,

“love” and “should”

are

incongruent,

do not belong together.

and when I met you,

when I let go,

I found the beauty

of the not-knowing,

the peace that came

in the mystery,

the sigh of relief,

the deep breath

that came

when I dropped expectation

when I realized

I didn’t have to know everything,

didn’t have to be able to explain

even the seemingly simple

scale of emotion,

dwelling in me.

didn’t have to

question my own heart,

exhaustingly so—

could simply

accept

amidst my imperfection,

amidst yours,

accept

despite our mistakes

despite our differences,

accept

regardless

of our inability to always express

how we felt

about each other,

regardless of

whatever we might’ve said or done,

accept

I have always loved you,

accept

I’m still madly in love with you,

accept

the joy and the pain of loving so deeply,

accept

that I will always love you.

unexplainable,

unreasonable,

illogical,

crazy,

stupid,

reckless,

absolute

beyond me.

if ever

the annoying question

of why

comes up,

I can say,

“I just do.”

-k.

[tinybluedots]

bloom in the rubble

some days

a battle

some days

a war

the good days

come

when she calls a truce

with me

the harder days

followed by long nights

the kinds encased in dreams

she seems to make up

just to keep me from rest—

when I wake

from her tantrum fits,

I sigh

a kind sigh,

tired

but

it is like

putting

a moody toddler

to bed.

I do not

argue with her—

children act out,

she might scream

(insults meant

to damage

the fragile

self-esteem

I have been

quietly building—

building the base

in secret, almost,

knowing she might

scream louder

if she knew

how tough

the material was)

she might cry,

might even appeal

to my nurturing nature,

when she hurls

her words at me,

I do not respond—

I used to scream back at her,

explosive fighting matches

shattering windows,

my mind

an abusive home,

violence echoing all around me—

and I was, too,

the small child,

fearful girl

in the closet

tears streaming,

hands cupped over ears

to tune out

the yelling—

they seemed to argue

about nothing really—

the only intent

seeming to be

who could hurt the other the most,

me against me,

shouting matches

accomplish nothing,

only advancing

the broken home

I was living in—

the worst part

coming

when I would

try

to invite friends over—

disappointed

confused

angry with myself

when the brokenness

wasn’t welcoming,

when the monsters

under the bed

scared them away—

and there I was, too,

plate of food

for every meal time,

letting them eat,

looking at my guests

shocked,

“you mean,

this isn’t normal?”

I used to chuckle

at the jokes they told, too,

comedy from the monsters,

snarky thoughts

about

the general

shittiness

of my character,

shoving popcorn in my mouth,

choking on laughter,

as if my own insults

couldn’t hurt anymore,

common as they had become—

but quickly learned

why it is

that the best militaries

are the ones

who know their enemies very well—

each side

launching

earth-shattering missiles,

and I was, too,

the little girl,

strawberry-printed pink dress on,

frills along the hems,

teddy bear in hand,

dirtied bare feet

walking through the remnants

of the warfare,

skirting around craters

and mutilated bodies,

all grey and black,

aching blisters

screaming at me

to stop moving,

to stop searching,

eyes narrowed

focused

scanning the dirt

the mud

miles passed over

and finally

gaze falling

upon a single,

golden flower

blooming in the rubble.

-k.

[tinybluedots]

to my baby in heaven

Aida,

I remember the day I discovered you like it was yesterday. I had taken a test a couple days before and it came back negative. But I couldn’t shake the intuitive feeling. I remember coming back into my bedroom as I waited for the test. I set it upside down so I couldn’t watch it, and tried focusing on the TV; I was watching The Office. Interestingly enough, it was an episode where Pam is pregnant. In the background, Andy said, “it’s like a little magical foot just high-fived me!”

When I finally flipped it over, after what seemed like an eternity, the black word stood out bold and true: pregnant. I went into shock, I think. My heart jumped in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Me, a mother? I remember I jumped out of bed, pacing for a few minutes as the reality started to wash over me. Huh. Who would’ve thought? Instantly, I wondered how Nick would take it. What if he was angry? Would he leave? Would he hate me if he stayed? I felt sick to my stomach.

I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and walked outside to my car. The first person I called was my sister. I still have screenshots of her reaction (and the reactions of my other family members as well). She was really happy and, as bewildered as I was, so was I.

When I decided to tell Nick, it was a couple of days before his birthday. I remember thinking, “what a birthday gift.” You certainly were a surprise. He came into my room and sat down in my desk chair. I’d told him I needed to talk to him about something, so I’m sure he already knew. I felt really nervous; I could barely look him in the eyes. I played with my fingers and I felt so nervous I could hardly breathe. As the words came out, I remember how still his face was. He was so calm. He took a breath and said, “okay. So what’s next?” He didn’t even flinch. I wonder if he was in shock too. Somehow, I felt so much calmer in his presence. I felt safe and relieved.

That same week, our unit told him he was going to deploy again, even as he’d just gotten back home a couple of months before. I can only imagine how stressed he was. We were making plans and preparing things so that we’d be all set up when you came. He would’ve been deployed the majority of the pregnancy and for your birth, so I felt really overwhelmed too. Even going through the Army paperwork and all of the appointments, I started to feel very alone. He grew pretty distant, and we didn’t really communicate well.

But we were excited. We talked about all the different things we wanted to do with you. We talked about finger-painting with you, and how we’d play games with you. We wanted at least one night a week to be family night. We wondered if you would be a boy or a girl. We wondered who you would be, what kinds of things you’d like. I made countless boards on Pinterest looking for nursery room ideas. My mom bought me the classic ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and took me to the baby store in town. We walked around and she got excited; she shared stories of when we were little and what tips and tricks helped her. I felt blown away at how tiny the onesies were. I couldn’t wait to start wearing maternity shirts and having the professional photo shoot when I was bigger. I researched the best prenatal vitamins and the best oils and lotions to prevent stretch marks. I changed my diet. I talked to others in the unit who knew I was pregnant and they offered to give me baby gear they didn’t use anymore.

Nick and I talked about what to name you and how we would raise you. I was thrilled. Honestly, I’d been making a lot of poor choices and if it wasn’t for you, who knows what would’ve happened. You changed everything for me. I felt connected with you instantly. I would figure everything out so you could have an even better life than mine. I would do whatever I had to do to keep you safe and loved.

I would touch my hand to my belly at night and talk to you. I wondered what interests you would have. I felt amazed. You were alive in me. God had sent me a real life angel to hold and cherish. The heavens had given me a treasure greater than anything I could ever accomplish. I wanted to name you Aida. It’s Arabic for “gift,” and Jewish for “joy.”

But one day, after work, my body started to hurt. I started bleeding and Nick drove me to the hospital. We were so scared. But they did an ultrasound and I got to see your tiny heart racing on the monitor. I knew you were small but it really hit me then. I felt so amazed. How could there be so much life in someone so preciously tiny? Nick and I called you ‘peanut,’ you were so small. The tech said she wasn’t supposed to, but she gave me some ultrasound pictures of you anyways. I still keep those on my desk in my room. So everything was okay, we thought.

And then the same thing happened a couple of weeks later, right before my first real prenatal visit. It was late at night and I was in even more pain. I drove myself to the hospital. They ran so many tests, I was in the ER for hours. I think I already knew, too. The nurse came in and said they were waiting for someone from the OB department to come talk to me. I definitely knew then, though I hoped it wasn’t so. And when she did come in, before she even said a word, the nurse came in behind her and set down a box of tissues on the bed with me.

As she started to explain that you were gone, that they couldn’t find your heartbeat and what steps I could take, I feel like I flew away. I cried but I wasn’t fully there. I went through the motions. They discharged me at 2am and it was raining. I remember I couldn’t even feel my legs carrying me to my car. I was sobbing like a child; I didn’t even care who saw me. I could barely even see the road through my tears, and the rain made me wonder if Heaven was crying with me.

My mom came up to see me and I curled up next to her on the bed like I was five years old again. I tucked my face into her shoulder and sobbed.

I was in denial, too. I couldn’t really believe what was happening. I refused to get the surgery done. Maybe you were still in there. Maybe the doctors were wrong. Nick didn’t know how to handle it either, and we parted ways for some time. I had a playlist I’d made for you that I kept on repeat.

And the day I finally got the D&C, I feel a piece of me died. I still remember vividly how they prepared me for surgery. I remember watching through lifeless eyes as the overhead lights passed when they wheeled me to the OR. I remember waking up and feeling as though I had awoken to a nightmare. I could hardly move as they put me in a wheelchair and pushed me outside to meet my escort. The bright and sunny day seemed to tease me. I felt so broken, like a shell of a person being wheeled around. They didn’t perform the surgery correctly the first time, either, so I went back for the second time two nights later while hemorrhaging. I remember being in so much pain that I couldn’t change myself; the nurse had to do it for me. I laid in bed and sobbed as I waited for a slot in the OR to open. It felt as if there were claws digging into fresh wounds, draining me even further. My mom talked to me on the phone and she said, “I’ve never heard you so defeated, Kace.” It was true. I felt hopeless for the first time in my life. Nothing before had been able to break me, but this certainly had.

I felt like a zombie in a haze. You were really gone, then. My arms wouldn’t hold you. I wouldn’t look into your eyes. I wouldn’t get to watch you grow. There would be no first steps, first words, first days of school, first boyfriend or girlfriend, first car. No graduations, no wedding.

As suddenly as you were here, you had gone. An entire future was over after a single hospital visit. You took with you a piece of my soul.

Before we lost you, I had a dream of you. An extremely vivid and spiritual dream. You were in my arms. You had dark brown hair and chocolate eyes like your daddy. You had on a pink onesie and a pink hairbow and you were smiling up at me with your hands held out. You laughed and so did I. I didn’t know it then but I think that was us saying goodbye.

You will always remain in my heart, and I know as I write this that you hear me. I pray that one day I will get to meet you and hold you the way I’ve always dreamed of. Until then, I will work everyday to become someone you would be proud of. I carry you everyday, my precious child. I love you and miss you dearly.

Love,

Your Mama.

[tinybluedots]

-my mirror-

I see a woman who has seen much of danger.

Her eyes beam a childlike innocence; hope dwells in the flecks of her irises.

Her sometimes green, sometimes brown eyes are brimming with stories seldom told.

Her hair falls past her shoulders, flowing easily in sun-tinted tendrils.

Her nose is rounded and her jaw is soft.

Her face is gentle and is reminiscent of a nostalgic youth, as if just beneath her surface is a small child laying in the grass, blowing bubbles.

Her lashes flutter like butterflies and disguise what lies inside.

I see a woman who could have been hardened by life.

Instead, though her features are telling of a great sadness, I see a gentleness.

I see scars in her eyes, but among those are specks in lighter hues of peaceful joy and dreams glowing like lanterns.

I see a hidden strength, like confidence savoring its bloom.

[tinybluedots]

WHY I DON’T TRUST MYSELF

My mind likes to take what I feel until I’m not sure I even feel it, or at least, it oversimplifies and confuses me. It takes my emotions and, like a bully in school, shakes out the change from their pockets.

I can’t trust how I feel because my mind demands to know, ‘why?’

As if my love was on trial, my effortless and easily flowing love, my mind accused my love of a crime. As if my heart needed to defend itself for feeling how it felt. My mind proposes alternate scenarios for why I feel what I do. It rationalizes. My mind says of my heart that it cannot possibly feel as it does without good reason. My mind is like a robber and my heart is the victim—my mind holds these things for ransom almost, my joy, my anger, even my own sadness.

To my joy it says, “why are you smiling? There’s plenty to be upset about; let’s start with all the shitty things you’ve been through,” and makes a list.

To my anger, it says, “you’re supposed to be a gentle, loving person. Good people don’t get angry.”

To my sadness, “how are you still sad about this? You should be over it. There are plenty of people who have it much worse than you.”

To my sarcasm, “you shouldn’t joke about those things.”

To my self-deprecating humor, “I thought you loved yourself?”

I am a war zone.

I am a battlefield.

I am the friendly and I am the enemy.

I am the artillery, I am the heavy fire.

And I am, somehow too, a prisoner of war.

[tinybluedots]

i see the good in people

faulty, I know

because it lets me

believe 

there is good in the way they hurt me.

[tinybluedots]

[tinybluedots]

[tinybluedots]

[tinybluedots]

lover of the sea.

sea foam licks my legs, the salt takes with it the sadness.

she grips me in a wave. I am a goner and I love it.

she holds me tight caresses me as I float,

over the wave and sometimes under it.

she crashes into me and I am in love.

-K.

16Aug20