Every process begins with purpose. I write poetry to capture beauty in language and imagery in hopes of healing myself and the world. Whether a poem is a euphoric expression of love, a lamentation, or a clarion call, it hastens healing by creating connection. Poetry is evidence of beauty’s persistence through struggle. Mary Oliver called it “a life-cherishing force.”
There is the world, and then there is poetry — a force that speaks back, that resists injustice, that forges a new future. This art form enables us to project our internal topography outwardly. It is how we shape ourselves and…
I drove with my windows down for the first time in a year.
My elbow rested on the door frame as I inhaled every pellucid molecule of blue sky. Early spring in Eastern Washington doesn’t hit 50 degrees; yet I was as footloose as if cruising the Strip in the heat of July. Driving home from the vaccination clinic, freedom washed over me with the cool hand of a prodigal lover. Pedestrians were scarce and drivers kept their distance. Still, I felt reckless.
A foreign emotion swelled inside of me, like a younger self hidden away, hesitant to peek out…
I breathed rumors of its fragrance
even before the purple bough
was shaken free and cut.
Beauty is effusive.
It travels like dust in a shaft of light
noticeable only in stillness.
Beauty floats, it swirls
it slides under locked doors
going undetected until we rest
then we see.
We are called. Not loudly.
Just a whisper is the invitation
to be free.
What holds us back?
Are we brave enough to
step out of our castles
and cocoons, our frayed
and wearied selves?
If we manage that, then what? Will we be brave enough to dance like sweet blossoms…