pieces

the in-betweens.

Just as it was before.

We’ve done this for two decades now, you and me
We climb the ladder nailed to the tall tree
Juice boxes and sandals; we sit on the end
This tree house, this moment that happens again and again

Ten years old us plus some things that are new
We’ve added some meaning, meaning to the things that we do
We’re allowed to ask that growing up not keep all of its promises
We’re allowed to sit up here and forget about all of the losses

Young you and me but now we’re less afraid
Young you and me but less time to play
In this tree life feels just as it was before
So life must move in circles, this life must be more

We still have tangles in our hair; still sap on our hands
We still like it best when our feet dangle above land
Not everything will change, not everything will turn mundane
You and me and this moment again, this will always be the same

It’s a beautiful battle in this forest of ferns
I won’t let you lose this one, in and through these grown up turns
It’s a beautiful battle between ten and twenty
Same things again, but this time it’s different, this time we’re ready

glitter

In the days of marker stained hands and naked feet, I let my daydreams and fairytales tell me that there would be a day when I would grasp my pot of gold, a day when I would hold my prince, and a day when I would get a glimpse of my very own yellow brick road. When this glittery day came, a day when the clouds would break and God would pat me on the head, when this day of understanding and lucidity finally came, I would be whole. I told the future to hold my heart, my purpose, and even asked the future to hold my identity. I would be all of me when I squeezed my way into the fairytale sitting on my pale yellow bookshelf. Every expired calendar in the garbage and every wish blown away with the birthday candle smoke brought another impatient and disenchanted question. The quest for clues and answers colored the life that I now live. My purpose isn’t to find my purpose. I'm to live, love, and be. I'm not required to uncover perfection and put it on display. Identity is not a goal or a finish line; identity is the living, the loving, and the being.

'in me you can breathe' says he
'i'm the light in your eyes
the shapes in the trees'

santa fe,

santa fe, your colors are stuck
patterns of brown boxes stuck in a rut
blue skies, come out, its time to play
come tell me if i'm meant to go or meant to stay

santa fe, i'll keep trying to blame you
for my failed attempt to prove that i'm new
you're so tangled, still got dust in your eye
when i ran away you were still here getting high

santa fe, i'm afraid because you say you already know
exactly who i am and all of the places i'll go
i don't know what to do when i'm no longer a mystery
i feel naked walking around completely covered in my history

santa fe, it's time to believe
maybe i'm not a victim here- a change is up to me
first i'll learn that its alright to say no
that is alright to sit alone and watch tumbleweeds blow

santa fe, give me chance number two
you really don't know me or the things that i'll do