Day 7: “The Curse of Cleaning”
A clean house
Means
Scrubbing
Spraying
Soaps
Suds
Wiping
Drying
It ends with admiring your work
The sparkling tub,
Mirrors,
Floor
The curse of cleaning is noticing every
Spill
Spot
Stain
That comes right after you finish
It’s a constant state of cleaning
When is it okay to take a break?
Day 6: “WWE”
Growing up
I never liked fighting
Or blood
In anything
TV
Movies
Definitely not in real life
It was scary
But now
My partner wanted me to watch wrestling
He said it’s less bloody
I actually find it funny
Sometimes gross
But my favorite part
Is seeing my boyfriend’s reactions
Passion
For wrestling
While it may not be my thing
I like gaining new perspectives
And seeing the childlike excitement on my partner’s face
Tonight, for example,
When John Cena became a heel, working for The Rock
He was shocked, taken aback
And I was just thinking how excited I was for him to be this excited
And how I first new The Rock from The Game Plan
Day 5: “9-5”
The busy workday makes me want to lay down
And
Do
Nothing
You may have noticed I missed a day. Yesterday was busy, and I ended up forgetting. But, that’s the beauty of doing this series—each day is a chance to reset and write. So that’s what I’m doing. Here’s to day 4, a day late.
Day 4 – “Public Transit”
Hustle
Bustle
Not owning a car
Means endless possibilities
It means carpool
Uber, Lyft, Empower
It means bus
Another bus
Metro
Another metro
And waiting,
Lots and lots of waiting
As I write this,
I’m waiting for my train
There’s beauty in transit
Even in the waiting
But sometimes,
Sometimes,
All I want is a free ride home
Day 3: “Happy Hour”
Socializing
Can be fun
Can be awkward
Can be funny
Can be so awkward you don’t know what to do with yourself
What do you do
When
the convo takes a turn
do you physically turn away
and walk out
and say goodbye, that’s enough
Or do you smile, laugh
change the subject
and make a mental note to dissect the moment with your partner later
I often opt for the latter
and take another sip of my drink
Day 2: “Medical Rant”
Pain and sadness
Anxious thoughts
What do you do when going to the doctor makes you hurt more?
Every time I go to the doctor
Someone dies
Or I feel violated
My blood pressure is always high
White coat syndrome it’s called
It’s a whole ordeal to go to the doctor’s
Got to make sure I have the right insurance
Got to wait in line
Got to tap my foot
Got to pee in a cup
Got to explain
“My blood pressure is always high at the doctor—just warning you”
With a smile and a laugh
When really I’m dying inside
Okay, breathe
It’s just the doctor
And you can have a sweet treat after for going
Does that make it worth it?
I can see why my grandma never liked going to the doctor
How do I get past it?
How do I lower my blood pressure?
I probably need to go to the doctor to get it checked out
Four years ago I started a series of daily poems to help me get comfortable writing on a consistent basis. I wrote what the title suggests—a poem a day—to create constantly and release my feelings and emotions. I did it for a month, and I remember really enjoying the creative outlet.
I have perfectionist traits that can prevent me from writing because I feel like everything I put to the page needs to be the best thing I’ve ever written. Instead of helping me write, that keeps me from ever recording a single thought.
I want to get back to that no judgment approach to writing and let my thoughts fly. This marks the return of the Poem a Day Series and hopefully marks a return to the joy of writing for me.
Day 1: “Life”
Life is beautiful
and gross
and funny
One minute you’re looking up at the trees
A heaven-like state
One with Nature
The next you’re wiping bird shit out of your eye
There’s too many to count
too much to say
Would anyone want to hear it anyway?
I feel frustrated
Angry
Sad
And Scared
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of my lungs
And it’s just day one
People sleep
In the dark
In the cold
outside
People sleep
In the dark
Bundled up and warm
inside
People live
To survive
People live
To thrive
People die
Because of the color of their skin
Because protection under the law is not guaranteed to them
Because people in power do not represent them,
do not celebrate them,
do not see them
People die
Because of old age
Because they lived a full life of protections and privilege
Because that is what happens at the end of life for them, not in the middle
People shout
Our Lives Matter
Black Lives Matter
I Can’t Breathe
As they take to the streets to demand justice
To demand equality
To demand safety and opportunity
People shout
Obscenities laced with racism
A product of privilege and ignorance
An embarrassment to society that is all too common
People cry
In the wake of the death of their loved ones
In the wake of the state of the country
In the wake of what this country was built on
And what it tries so desperately to forget and deny and suppress
People cry
When they learn the truth
When they try to understand
When they acknowledge their part
People unite
With the understanding that not everyone can understand
But that change is necessary
And acknowledgement is vital
That reparations start with a collective apology
A collective confession
A collective frame shift
A call to action
A Revolution
Led by the people
The people who have needed the world to affirm
that Their Lives Matter
“It’s not your fault.”
Fear
Guilt
“It’s not your fault.”
Shame
Pain
“It’s not your fault.”
Denial
Delusion
“It’s not your fault.”
Pleading
Screaming
“It’s not your fault.”
Deafening
Sickening
“It’s not your fault.”
Numb
Empty
“It’s not your fault.”
But it is
I sink lower
and
lower
The sand in my head
Pulls me in
Each grain is coarse
It reaches all of me
Scratching me
I lean into the discomfort
I deserve it
I fall
deeper
Letting the sand
s e t t l e
When I emerge
Soft and smooth
Refreshed
The coarse sand is washed away
with the
waves
I am left with reckless desire
It threatens to break me
A waning wish, ever so dire
I give in, letting it take me higher
Hoping to find you, hoping to see
I am left with reckless desire
Red gleams in the flames of the fire
I remember your wish to stay, your quiet plea
A waning wish, ever so dire
I see the ripped fabric on the barbed wire
My regret is crushing; I did not foresee
I am left with reckless desire
You’re gone and there’s no rectifier
My heart pleads but there’s no guarantee
A waning wish, ever so dire
I see the tears; you’re not the only crier
The waves crash on the sand of the sea
I am left with reckless desire
A waning wish, ever so dire
The light shines, glistens on the pond
The green so sweet; I’ve grown so fond
A bird chirps and sings her melody
A dream so near, an approaching remedy
The sky so bright, a sacred bond
A fear so big for what’s beyond
I don’t want to leave, to end this song
Nature floats, a sight so heavenly
The light shines, glistens on the pond
Mother calls, waves her heavy wand
A change too big, my future pawned
Here I want to be so desperately
Taken too soon, rooted in tragedy
I promise to return, to correspond
The light shines, glistens on the pond
Faking It Made 