Author: A Poet's Pen

Clarity.

Time seems to hide in my moments of clarity,

Like days will melt into years

With quiet mornings and him

Holding my hand

And drinking coffee.

But it is morning,

And I am alone.

His body is molded into a plastic chair

Learning coded messages

From pieces of technology

As he sends words to me

Through small screens and dying batteries.

I am sitting on the couch

Writing and planning for next week,

Imagining little voices calling out for me

To teach words and metaphors.

I am alone,

But in my dreams I will still have time to meet

And talk and laugh and listen.

I am alone,

But I hold him here.

That’s All I Want

I want us laughing over spilt coffee

Shuffling through a deck of cards

With our legs crossed.

I want that piece of sky

When last night becomes tomorrow morning

And our clothes try to hide

What we made in our memory.

I want our feet to cross over

The places that threatened our freedom.

I want the clock hands to get stuck

So we have more time to spend.

I want the papers and messages to cease

The overwhelming deadlines

So I can talk to you at night.

I want something to hold onto.

Like the days we take time to go for a drive,

Or when you take my hand and smile.

I want those days, and I want more nights—

I want us to remember the meaning of together.

That’s all I want.

Mountains

I watched the sun rise over blue ridges
 
And traced my fingers where the summits hit,
 
But I wasn’t there.
 
I was sitting in the front seat of my car watching the shadows fall,
 
Turning the volume up as a song
 
Spoke of North Carolina, and distant lovers.
 
My hands tapped against the steering wheel,
 
And I let my eyes close,
 
Because I wanted to feel the sun and think about the times
 
I felt like I wasn’t going to make it.
 
When I lost hope in my eyes and strength in my arms,
 
I let my friends and family hold me up—
 
So there I waited,
 
Mountains touching the skies,
 
Hours away from commencement,
 
And realized I carved my way through depravity.
 
I sang praises and thought of the people’s faces
 
Who stood in my way before—
 
And thanked them for the lessons learned
 
In my hours of work.
 
I watched the light burn stronger,
 
And my eyes burned with it from the relief and peace knowing
 
I’ve made it to sunrise, and I am still growing.

Overseas

I don’t care about the mosquitoes.

It only keeps me on my toes,

And reminds my skin to be tough

So I can live through the changes.

I don’t care about the lack of electricity.

It only keeps me close to you

And it reminds my eyes to search harder

Through the dark so I can move.

I don’t care about the heat.

It only helps me bare myself more

And it reminds my hands to stay open

So I can be true to who I am.

I don’t care about the differences.

It only shows me more ways to love you

So I can find room to understand.

I don’t care about the dark,

As long as you hold my hand.

Memories

I remember him.

I remember the hours we sat together

Talking about life.

Sometimes I’d listen to stories

From his mission work days

Told in ways that made Africa

More than a place.

I saw his home, his friends,

And the countless voices that called him,

“Papay!”

I felt the table he built with his hands—

Strong hands under the sun

That worked until age touched

His body and taught him

Patience.

While I watched the road change

Into a water colored painting,

I drove to the home where he used to be.

I let death sting

My eyes and my heart

And I cried.