LOVE
he kissed my hip
curved and relaxed
skin on skin
and i saw beauty
where just hours before
I’d caught myself demeaning
the space that same hip
took up
jutting outward
further than I’ve ever been
comfortable with
but demanding space
for itself anyway
like it belonged there
and fuck how I felt about it.
there is a lesson here for me.
-2022
LIE
It cracked the foundation
A million times
Tiny cracks I did not notice
Until one day
It cracked so hard I felt it in my soul.
The crack let in water
That had been waiting
to drown me
It ate itself
And kept looking for more
Still hungry
You watched me drown
In the flood your lie caused
Told me it wasn't your fault
And left.
-2022
GRIEF
Strands of
Grief
Are falling
Out of my mouth
Onto the ground.
They keep falling
Is there no end?
-2021
SUNSHINE, SUNFLOWERS, AND SMELLY RUNNERS
I was anxious, my stomach in knots and my brain working overtime trying to process everything in the last few minutes before my first 50 mile mountain race: where had I left my drop bags? I needed to give them to the aid station people. Where are the aid station people? I couldn’t see them. Why?? Had they left already? Then I heard a loud “GOOO!” over a bullhorn and looked up to see all the other runners taking off into the woods. Without me. I was getting left behind! No, no, no! I worked so hard! I struggled to run out there, feeling like uneven blocks of concrete were attached to my feet, trying put my hydration pack on at the same time and realizing I still had my warm layers on and had to take them off. Then I realized I’d never picked up my bib number from inside and couldn’t run without it. The race director, a white-haired, grizzled man stared at me like I was an idiot. I kind of wanted to cry, but I sucked it up and stood there. Like an idiot.
My eyes opened and it was dark and quiet. Stupid race dreams. It was the second time I’d had that same dream that night – the night before the race. Relieved that it was just a dream, I closed my eyes and drifted off again....
-2015
-Sunflower 50 Mile
#trailrunning #ultrarunning #sunflower50
WILDERNESS
This is where I go when things go wrong.
When they go right its also the
best place to be,
but I can be anywhere and have a
smile on my face,
lightness in my step,
ease of being and breathing.
When they're not right I must be here.
I must
feel the soft sink of my feet into the dirt
feel the cold air from deep crevasses under ancient boulders
smell the damp forest:
dirt and bark and leaves
step over giant nurse logs
teeming with new life
taste the fresh air as it reaches
into my lungs
and let my soul drain its sadness and anger into these surroundings, which will
soak it up
,
renew it into other energy,
make it new and positive,
to bring good instead of
circulating bad.
I am here in this place for
renewal and peace.
I am home.
-2015
#wilderness #outside #sorrow
CAVITY
Removing a person from your life is painful. The longer they've been there the larger the space they occupied. It doesn't matter how many crappy things they've done to you. They were a fixture.
When they're gone there's a hole there. It has raw edges, so you can't refill it yet with something else. You move around it, trying to act like it's not there, but having to know where it is all the time so you don't fall in, or drop something in and have to go fetch it. So I just move around the hole where this person used to be - waiting for the edges to not be so raw. Bandaids don't work here.
Occasionally, like today, I'll shovel in some dirt and try to start the process of filling it up. Just to see where I am. but it still hurts - the edges are still raw and sting-y. One day I'll realize how much of this person I still carry with me, and that I can't get rid of him completely. But I don't want to think about that yet.
I sit in silence as the world moves, breathes, thinks and feels around me. I feel like everyone can see my open wound.
I don't really care.
-2015
#grief
RADIO AUSTRALIA
Nuzzled in long white arms.
I only want to be here, even though my butt is getting numb.
Some people come and try to take me. They are not safe and he won’t let them. They go away.
His hands reach for and twist old black knobs on an old brown radio. There is a microphone on the desk too, brown and older than any I’ve seen before.
Static. Hiss. High pitched whine dips in frequency. Grandpa’s voice: “KA7CRO...” Silence for a moment.
Suddenly, voices reach out at me from speakers sitting up high. These voices do not sound like any I’ve heard before. The words make sense but the sounds of them are so different. I am fascinated. I stare deeply at the radio, the lights and dials moving with the sound.
Grandpa points to the ceiling, to our poster-map - the place he’s said he will go with me someday. It is aged and yellow and gigantic to my three year old eyes.
It is Australia.
I feast my imagination on this map, and the place it represents.
I wake, hours later, still safe in Grandpa’s lap. Nothing bad will happen here.
-2019
#grandpa #safe #safety #love
-2019
NAME
If my name were the thing I am called most my name would be mom
m.o.m.
.....mom
it’s been whispered and asked, shouted and laughed
yelled angrily and shattered my peace annoyed me at every worst
....possible ....moment
like when I use the bathroom
or am in a conversation
and in my own world for a few sacred moments.
My name MOM will pierce its way into my bubble
and pull me out of whatever I was doing.
I’ve heard it in sobs, taking far more than it’s one required syllable,
sobs from falls, hard lessons, moving 'cross country, and friends.
I've heard it stretched out across moments with a highly.....annoying....whine.
It's been full of wonder after accomplishments, coming of age awe as she realizes her power over....boys, and their power over her.
It’s been spoken softly in the middle of the night as little arms hug me and I hug back
and again as those same arms, now as long as mine, make their way around my shoulders again and ask me questions I feel honored to answer.
It’s giddy and gleeful from a toothy, smiling mouth when she sees our new (old) dog,
and spoken in sad, hushed and shameful tones on other continents, struck with realization as history’s ugly truths sink in - “mom what did we do to this country?”
There’s more, but I have to wait for it to happen. Until then.
-2019
#parenting #parent
WHITE
This is not your skin
It’s not tan
It’s brown
Like my fathers
And his parents
And theirs
And on.
From a place you despise
Having never been there
To witness its beauty
You just want some amalgamation
of cuisine
Placed safely on your clean dinner table
Surrounded by skin absent of pigment
Far from the place and culture and rhythms it comes from
Eat.
I will hear you discuss how much you love dinner, and be curious about it and where it comes from
So long as you’re safe at your dinner table with your white (save me) family, in your white community, in your white town.
-2020
BROWN
You covet their brown skin
As long as it’s not too dark.
You want their language…occasionally
But only if it is an option
With accent free English the default
You want their culture
But only on Tuesdays
And only parts you’ve declared acceptable
You’re not racist
But I’ve heard you whisper about those damn spics so many times when you thought I was too young to understand, or remember
I tried to scrub the brown out of my four year old knuckles in your bathroom sink
I tried to scrub the brown out of my five year old knuckles in your bathroom sink
I tried to scrub the brown out of my six year old knuckles in your bathroom sink
I tried to scrub the brown out of my seven year old hands in your bathroom sink
It was physically painful every time.
I finally gave up
And tried to be as white as you
In every way I could notice.
So I wouldn’t be dirty
So I could be as good as you
And now it’s just how I am.
I tried to distance myself from my brownness
Even though I couldn’t hide the tell tale mark of my skin, my name, and features
Because I looked white enough, to whites, you’d told me so.
I didn’t know those feelings that came with this self distancing were called internalized racism, guilt, self hate, and shame, nor that they weren’t my fault.
“People will think she’s white” you said
And you were right
I was so young.
But Mexicans always know me, wherever I am.
And you don't believe me when I tell you this, because to you Mexicans don't know what they're talking about.
-2020
WILDNESS
Running.
Trails, rocks, roots.
Feet falling faster then slower,
up and then down,
over then across and ....UP!.....
over a felled log and
THUD! back into the dirt.
I am all heavy and happy feet.
My legs and arms drip with exhaustion and happiness.
Coming around the next bend of the trail,
anticipation building to discover what's behind the next tree.
I've seen it before, in all its many seasons, shades, rains, suns and snows;
in splattered mud, and dry dust; both dark with night and
blinding with dappled sunlight.
Feet fall carefully in the dirt as I slow
and come up to something gray and unforgiving
that somehow sticks to and covers the dirt that should be everywhere.
It's vast.
I raise my eyes and the gray reaches off so far.
It reaches into me and slowly infringes
on the warm happiness that now folds over me, wrapping me like a heavy old quilt.
The quilt is my shield, my sanity and everything that will keep me together for the next week. I warily step onto the gray hardness that is the parking lot and feel my heart
turning to look back at the trails, asking me why I can't stay just a little.bit.longer.
-2015
#trailrunning
DETERMINATION
All that is lost
I will find
All i was not born with
I will make, or make do
All I was not nurtured with
Or that was taken
I have learned to intricately nurture, or rebuild, in myself
I do much and none of this alone
Though only a handful of supporters
They are enough.
And this is where I land
My own softness at my feet
And in my hands.
We are all welcome here.
My mistakes
I reckon with
As I am able.
But I keep my softness always,
especially for those days.
-2023
#daughter #mother #generational
