Your smile, the trembling of my heart,
Your touch, the creeping of my skin,
Why do I cry when I’m not hurt?
Why do I rejoice in my own sin?

Rainbows, morning dew, raindrops,
Tears, broken hearts, lost dreams,
Why can’t I open when bliss knocks?
Why do I only hear my heart’s screams?

I lost love once, lost my own faith,
I hide, Scared of being once more broken,
Although my soul longed for some wealth,
And my head buzzed with words unspoken.

Is this how death feels like to me?
Am I alive, am I in the land of the living?
How do I move on and let me be
When it hurts even with my own breathing.

Heaven have mercy, I want to cry,
If it might even give slight relief,
I can’t find peace, and God! I try,
My strength leaks beyond all belief.

Be here with me now, make me melt,
Clear this doubt and the clouds I hold,
The fear of emotions I once felt,
Smile, allow me to feel bold.

Are you real, or just a strong illusion?
With that strong, mightily assuring presence,
Are you in my life or my mind’s creation?
I cower at the thought of your absence.

Help me to be born and live afresh,
Break my will, my being, my bones,
Make me alive, mold the feel of my flesh,
Give me peaches, strength, love of stones.

I get so scared, but sometimes happy,
You give me all, you ask for nothing,
So I’m content, but also shamelessly sappy,
That I have you, I won’t ask for more of anything.


A burning deep inside and strong,
Like my heart is painfully wrong,
Blown away with nothing to hold,
In this burning that’s yet so cold.

How I got here, I have no clue,
My doubts and regrets not so few,
Was it when I gave my all to you,
And you stomped it with the sole of your shoe?

A heavy blow on my life you struck,
In that pain and agony I got stuck,
I wailed, I mourned, screamed, cried,
I got lost and my soul was tried.

But who gives death after giving life?
Who gives feathers and then a knife?
Allows fields to bloom, wounds to pus?
Who makes, breaks and strengthens us?

A greater power works hard inside,
Gives us strength to choose and decide
So, I was hurt, so deeply by you,
I wasted as my ugly shame-stain grew.

But, in all this a choice I have,
To cry, laugh, sing, hate or love,
And I come to make mine at last,
That I shall forgive you, ___ fast.

From the Earth

This is what I know of creation:
It has two parts. The first, the part that gives life, I can’t claim to understand. There are way too many theories and beliefs. I being a mere mortal wouldn’t dare to try to explain that.

The second, I lived through and still do. This is the part I want to tell you about. I am living well, I have good life moments and bad ones, just like everyone I know. And there are times that life gives me nothing but the dry soil beneath my feet. Life gave me the dry earth of disappointment, dried up memories, —

I walked with that weight on my shoulder, my back bent to stitches. Until the day I started pounding the soil with frustration. I pounded, fueled by all the pain, fear, anger and insecurities of my life. I pounded until my flesh bled, angry tears falling and sweat dripping.
Yet somehow, these softened the soil. And once past the frustrations,
I noticed the mold that became of the soil, I discovered the use of a soft touch. I saw the strength of gentle molding, and used that. I sang and caressed the soil to the shape of my dreams.

This is how I learned of creation, dear one. This is when I learned that I, am capable of creating. The person I am today is because of the success and failure of my creation. So, I stand here as a simple human, still discovering.
I now stand before you—

Ask me for a mother or father,
I will mold with a smile on my face, adding drops of unconditional love and protection from the bright colors of life. And from the dark ones, I may find some temper or neglect to spice up the mix. A parent you may have.

Ask me for a husband or wife,
And I will mold love, devotion and romance into my soil. Maybe even pinches of jealousy and infidelity. I will add what I have, and you may have a partner.

Ask me for a brother or sister,
I will mold a sibling with multiple colors of adventure, companionship, mischief and even rivalry for you. You may have a sibling.

Ask, dear one. Ask for a friend, ask for a neighbor, ask for a lover, ask —
And I, will collect the sweet and sour essence of my being and mold one for you in all its perfection and imperfections.

BUT, do not ask me for the person I created from the bare, dry earth of my life. Do not ask me to sacrifice the person I mourned and celebrated myself to be. Because dear one, this is one being I cannot give away. Not even to you. This is the being I will always choose.

This is the being I created, remember?