I Felt Creation In My Mind Maybe As A Mother Giving Birth Horrible, Painful, Terrifying But Oh, What

When I have swam too far And been lost in my emotion You have been the lighthouse That brought me out of the ocean

When I have flown too high Out of the atmosphere You have brought me back to earth And made me long to be here

I have never ran too far Or trekked alone in the snow The idea that I might miss you Has kept me safe you know

And when I have been too quiet When darkness filled my sky The image of your smiling face Has kept my guarded heart alive

A small zen garden Sits on the therapist's desk To calm both of us

Icicles on a tree branch, glittering The barren thing adorned anew Similar to the way the leaves grew When birds were still out twittering

The ice hangs like daggers or teeth Or diamonds hung around a neck A delicate or dangerous effect Be wary those who pause beneath

To catch them as they drip and fall And crash upon a wooden floor Shattered, a delicate thing unmoored Such glass is sweet at the end of it all

Do actions really speak louder than words? If so, my actions are to Put pen to paper, to share, to express What I otherwise could not unscramble in my mind.

The action of showing you my heart, A glimpse into my private sanctuary; That is a commitment I could not Match with gestures or tangible doings.

With each letter I unfurl What I've hidden deep within my proverbial soil, Unraveling all my coiled roots and Rebuilding myself piece by fragile piece.

Maybe from words we can take away this: I am crafting, I am weaving, I am building a solid foundation upon Which all my intentions have the space flourish.

This poem got away from me How cliche It's something all poets will say So am I a poet at all? If I'm just letting the words fall Where they may?

(I wouldn't describe myself that way)

This dreary morning January rain Falling onto icy snow Makes my eyes feel Heavy and tired

Roads caked with slush Cars splash through Brownish gray waves And I fall Down into the sludge

I sink like this month This month of melancholy I am crumbling Into these dirty waters Let me sleep in them

Let me sleep until This downpour lets up Until then I am fatigued These rains Beat me into submission

I've missed you Did you know? I am shy to say so Exposed, unguarded I confess I've been longing

I was a lake And you were drought Or the absence Of you was the dry Cracking of soil When I needed water

So you are my rain My dear, my love Caution swept away Kissing in the Flooding streets, I couldn't care

But to tell you so, I've been afraid Foolhardy, but hear Me tell you again I've missed you So you know

The enigmatic me, I am the phantom bird The sphinx-like you, who exists in shadow You are effervescent, elusive You are a past life, a future creation I, well I am unearthly, a singing phoenix I am a thousand voices reshaped in rebirth You, a face shifting behind the veil One and the same, many things, unknowable If I am somebody's songbird, calling the cat If I carve a place in the hollow of a hand If I am another's, still unclaimed, still mine Then I am yours, always yours Who am I whistling to in the night If not someone as nameless as I? In the space where mirage becomes breath Between these legends, you are me, I am you

I will be whatever you need to see in me today, My body a canvas open to interpretation. Here I am soft, delicate as silk; There I am sharp, rugged as stone. I am shifting, gliding, reshaping myself, I am swimming through the waters of my gender, Moving from room to room In this house I am calling my body.

But I am twisting in the hallway, Arms and legs spilling through every door; I am too much at once and so never quite enough. Tell me what you want, I will shape myself to fit. Make me compatible with your desire Until I forget the shape of myself entirely.

(In your rejection I’ve flooded our home, Drowning in the rooms where you once wanted me.)

I like the smell of steady rain The sound it makes on glass Quietly crashing Against the window pane The clouds a wall of heavy gray A day that's seemingly mundane

In silence he takes out the pieces And I pick out the strain Then he watches me get lost in Faraway thoughts that drift away He can't hear our hidden heartbeat Like a drumming through my brain I might have washed away Still here in water we remain