I grieve when love dies

When thorns become razors

Bleeding hands that hold too tightly

Lucious red lips being drained of color

Dripping delicately on dry dirt

Memories of what was

Watering patient pods

As love leaves

It branches withering snapping

Arms too weak

To bear anymore fruit

These stretched out moments

Return to the earth

Cradling and cooling

Defiant sprouts

Determined to grow

Aren’t we so lucky?

To hold ourselves

Through every collapse

Every bloom

Every ending

Every beginning

Aren’t we so lucky?

That we got to be loved

And love again

Grieve when love goes

When fingerprints left

Turn to ghosts

Haunting and holding

Laughter from foggy memories

Where the feeling is stronger in the heart

Than the painting in the mind

I believe in loving hard

Because all love leaves

Stems cracking from the branch

falling away to be reclaimed

By the soil to eventually

Love again

Aren’t we so lucky?

To be held

Through every connection

Every collapse

Every bloom

Every ending

Aren’t we all so lucky?

That we get to be loved

And love again.

Aren’t we all so lu

Crackling apart for new growth

Green tenderness

Frozen fingers of a stubborn winter struggle

Raina and wind suffocating

The emerald explosion above

Down to the anchored mirrors below

The green persists

Without thinking

Without fear

Certain of what is meant to do

Push, grow, stretch beyond

No direction

Just Out

Knowing that it too

Will turn to stone

Making room for those tender green

Who follow

You did your best

To keep us alive

Tightening the muzzle

Made just for us

Until our jaw

Forgot how to move

Our wicked tongue

Leaking bleeding truth between

Baby teeth

You did such a good job

Being so strong

Bringing yourself

To me.

It’s time to remove the muzzle

Let the baby teeth fall out one by one

Time to clean the wounds

Reminder of when you could not feel

Wash your precious face

You can close your eyes

You are safe

I promise.

It’s time for sleep now

Time to rest

Let your claws

Retract

Let your fangs

Recede

Let your narrowed eyes

Relax

Let the running red rivers

Return

Your work is done

Sweet child

I am here

To hum your lullabies

So that you may

Finally

Rest

Pedro no podemos ver

Pajaros cantan canciones

Que no podemos intender

La Tierra

Llena de sabiduria

Nosotros

Lleno de miedo

Los raizes

Mantenido de nuestras antepasadas

Secan, mendicidando

Para la aguita del alma

Para senator unido con la madre mundo

Si perdiemos nuestra coneciones

Con los raises

La Tierra

Los Estrellas

Permanecermos umanas?

O solo somos animales escalvadas

En el imaginacion de otras animales?

As practiced hooves

Slam against her

A stream of stallions and mares

Stampede

Heads down

Desperate with exhaustion

“Not me not today please”

As hyenas circle the stream

Grinning with crimson soaked

Eyes and teeth

Searching for their next easy kill

With each foal

Snatched

Stolen from the heard

It grows weaker

Mournful when it’s drowned

By their thunderous gallops

The remaining huddle closer

Crushing each other as blood, sweat, and saliva

Chokes the air

They bite intro each other’s ears and manes

Anything to get further away from the hyenas

And their teeth

The mustangs have forgotten

That the hooves

That cry

Can crush

Even the strongest of jaws

That together

They can change the direction

Of their sprint

Stallions are not meant to fear

Scavengers who know not the land

But much has been forgotten

Hold your head high

Brave nightmares

For the cliff is coming

Threatening to break all

Of your powerful legs

The poem of the week I choose was my favorite share of the semester, the voice is playful and silly while being honest about the difficulties of humanity. I love love love humor in poetry as mine often lacks it and especially a poem as rooted as this one is.

My intention is to provide myself a place to reflect and find strength in the ability to push through a world that grows ever darker. Thankfully, it’s only in the deepest of darknesses where we can finally appreciate the light.

every living thing has a mouth—

potato on my cutting board, it mouths

more sunlight, please. potatoes want

more sunlight. me too, fam.

humans believe we are chosen by our gods,

but what if the gods chose potatoes?

don't laugh. here we go inventing new ways

to kill each other while potatoes sleep.

while potatoes drink sunlight & water

& wiggle their toes in the dirt.