We Were Fools

That’s how it is, though. You know?
When you’re young and believe that
you have more power in your adolescent
hands than you have any right to.

When you can deny that this life
is really a gamble; luck of the draw
in a world of strange cliches and
flawed desires and hopes.

But that’s the beauty of being
young, isn’t it? The belief that
anything and everything is possible
if the cards fall into place
at just the right time.

We were fools, and that’s okay.
It’s that very foolishness
that lets us grow and understand.
That where our feet land may not
be where we’d planned
or dreamed, but it’s where
we are meant to be.

Chat With an Unwed Mother

She said, “It’s a sin.”
Her daughter,
that beautiful baby
girl.

A sin in the eyes
of a Church that
the drugs pulled her
away from so viciously
that repentance only came
with her daughter’s
baptism.

A sin in the eyes
of her family,
devout and unforgiving
in true, religious form.
Acceptance found only
after two years
of toddler smiles and
curious giggles.

I shook my head,
taking a sip of my
drink before typing my
response.

Your baby girl
is the blessing you needed.
The wonder of a
new life to save
the very tired and abused
one you called normal.
Your baby girl
is your reason to live,
your reason to
find God again.

I let it sit on the screen,
waiting.

“So…
…
your kid…you don’t think
you’ve made a mistake?”

I grin.

I think I’ve been blessed.

How to Dream

Dreams scatter
the thoughts of
a workday.

The image of
imagination.
Because there is such
a thing.

It’s a sound
mingled with the mud
of a million vibrant
colours and
fractured rays of
light beaming from
hopeful eyes.

It’s the intangibly
describable flavour
of the perfect
day filled with
every possible
impossibility.

Oh yes, there is
an image
of imagination.
And you can see
it in the eyes
of anyone who still
remembers how to
dream.

Experience

With experience comes wisdom.
But love should be the ultimate
rule-breaker, right?
When the person you choose
is the person who sets every
emotion you have on fire
and stokes the flames with a glance.

That’s when experience counts
for nothing, and feeling is what
carries you through.
It’s the very thing that opens
the doors of the mystery
of a lifetime with someone
you yearn to know deeper than
you’ve cared to know anyone else.

But what’s the point
if you stop fighting?
If you never knew how
to fight to begin with?
Cowering in a corner,
unsure of scolding glances
and pained expressions
of love pitted against
the comfort of familiarity
no matter the disdain.

And you sit and stare
in utter confusion.
“I have no experience.”

I say,
man up.

Purpose

Life is a blur
when god grabs you
by the shoulder and
throws you headlong
toward a fate you hadn’t
penciled into your
flimsy notebook
(at least, not yet).

But that’s the beautiful
thing about being alive
and breathing.
Walking in the summer
sun knowing
that everything
is with its purpose
and meaning.

And it came as
some unexpected
gift wrapped in shock
and wonder and confusion.
That purpose
found in the dreams
of a swaddled infant.