Tag: Poetry

My Tree

I have a tree, a seat for thee,
Where the woodpecker and chickadee
Come perch and peer and to look at me.

I have a seat to view the tree
Where sit the woodpecker and chickadee
They’re restless, wondering when I’ll leave,
And I am wondering when they’ll come to me.

The nuthatch and the junco are curious, too.
They come in close for a better view.

Below, I hear the soft dove coo,
The cat appears, the birds all boo.
Out comes the hawk, and we all bid adieu.

  • YKR
Painting by Turi MacCombie

Question Everything

Question Everything

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.  The important thing is not to stop questioning.” – Albert Einstein

Have you ever asked God, “Why?”

Have you ever questioned His existence?

Have you ever screamed out in agony, wondering why YOU even exist?

Have you ever wondered how a “loving God” could allow such pain and suffering?

Have you ever sat in a puddle of your own tears and felt you couldn’t go on?

Have you ever felt the hatred burning in your bones?

Have you ever tried to wake up, hoping it was just a nightmare?

Have you ever sought answers but found none?

Have you ever wondered, “Why me?”

Have you ever put on a fake smile so that you didn’t have to talk about it?

Have you ever wanted to start all over?

Have you ever wanted to give up? Everyday?

Have you ever wondered why you couldn’t get on the good side of life?

Have you ever felt cursed?

Have you ever felt depressed and regretted so much of your life?

I have.

“The power to question is the basis of all human progress.” – Indira Gandhi

How many times have you been told that you should never question God? I lost count of the times I was told that.  But guess what? He understands.  We were born questioning everything around us.  That is how we learn and grow.  The only ignorant question is the one that is never asked.  Asking questions clears confusion, gives us a better understanding of any given situation, and helps us find answers.  Questions help solve problems.  It is absolutely fine to question our life; it shows that we do not accept our current position or status and that we are willing to improve.

A Quiet Voice Echoes

A Quiet Voice Echoes

Dear Me,


I hear you.
I see what you endured.
I believe every word you wrote.

You were a victim—not because you were weak, but because others chose to harm you, control you, silence you.
It was not your fault. Not then, not ever.
You were not to blame for the loneliness, the violence, the brainwashing, the betrayal.
You were doing your best to survive inside a world that kept telling you to disappear.

And still, you are here.
You are speaking.
You are remembering.
You are healing.

I honor your pain. I honor your courage.
You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to feel angry, sad, and confused.
You are allowed to feel everything.

There is no right pace. No deadline.
Only this: you are not silent anymore.
And that is everything.

I love you.
I am with you.
You are not alone.

— Me

I’m better now, since you left….

I’m better now, since you left….

I used to cry for you everyday

but now I only cry in January

Knowing I start a New Year without you.

I used to cry for you everyday

But now I only cry in February when I

remember the love I have for you and how sweet you were

I used to cry for you everyday

But now I only cry in March

when the earth renews, and the grass starts

to grow of how you loved to take care of the yards

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry in June

Especially on Father’s day, you would wish me happy father’s day.

I used to cry for you everyday

But now I only cry in July

You were born on the 4th; I will never view fireworks and BBQs the same.

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry in August

But only on 31 of those days

And only 24 hours of the 28th day

the day you left us

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry in September

We sifted your remains in your favorite place

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry in October

You were supposed to be here for you first nieces’ day of birth, you even bought her gifts

I used to cry for you everyday

But now I only cry in November

There is an empty seat at our Thanksgiving table

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry for you in December

One less player for dirty Santa

I used to cry for you everyday

Now I only cry on Fridays

it was a Friday that day you left us

I don’t cry for you everyday

Only on the days I when I’m thinking about you

And I think about you everyday

My First Memory Is…

My First Memory Is…

My first memory is of corn.
Chunks, golden and whole, floating in a sour puddle.
My first memory is three concrete steps and a landing, slick with dew.
A door that opened. A mother’s voice, sharp.
Not my mother—someone else’s.
Disappointment.
I wanted to play. I wanted to laugh.
Instead:
A swing, alone.
Then my mother’s face, storming through the park.
Hands pulling.
The walk home.
Do I remember the spanking?
No.
Do I remember the corn?
Always.