Sometimes when I

remember your voice, I

cry because you always

called me your princess, but

now that you're gone,

am I a queen? 

Did I inherit your worth,

all your value, when

you went?

Am I the queen of a 

crumbling empire,

destined only to fall

into the black sea of

despair below?

Wherever you are, do

you remember me with

fondness, or with

despair or longing, or

just hate for the girl

who loved you, and you left her?

Am I now just

a long-forgotten queen? 

every day i remember

you, with your warm smile and

how you used to tease me under the

willow tree and then apolagize

even though i know you didnt mean it

and when we'd have to 

leave i'd wrap my arms around 

your shoulders and whisper goodbye, and

the next day i'd see you again but one weekend it was 

just me and i knew after ten minutes you were

gone and you werent coming back because

you were the most punctual person i'd ever met

when your mom told me about the car i

cried for a week and never left my room, all

i did was stare at the polaroids on the wall,

memories we shared but now they were all 

gone,

like you.

the summer of tears never ended and

i still have the pictures in a box under my bed,

the tie-dye t-shirts are in the back of the 

closet, so i cant see them and cry, although

i do most days.

and she's helping a bit but i'll never feel that way about

someone else because you were the only one i

ever truly cared about, and while i mention the

willow tree once in a while i'll

never take her there, never visit that meadow again, 

because that was our place, and

now that you're gone it's broken,

like my soul. 

What will you do when the world threatens to break?

What will happen?

Will you cry and move on

Or forever be stuck; lamenting, broken, but trying?

Will you be torn apart?

Give in despair?

What will really happen? 

This poem is honoring everyone who has died from COVID-19. I'm not going to apologize for bringing up this pain. I'm not going to apologize for this poem being sad, or dark, or painful. Because I'm not going to apologize for it being true.

~~~

america - you could have saved them.

death came early,

on breath-stealing

heart-stopping

killing slashing wings,

for our brothers

and sisters.

within white walls

and sterile floors

and the

beep

beep

beep

of sand trickling out,

death came,

on these bladed wings,

and stole the life from our lungs.

do you know the pain,

of this new

america?

have you felt

the tears

and blood

spilled,

too soon,

hot and quick,

like fire? 

have you known

the way breath

comes in short

sharp

gasps,

your world crumbling

around you,

and all you can do

is wait?

have you known

the void in your chest

as a shard of your heart

dies

with the dying,

again

and

again,

fresh pain,

fresh blood,

fresh tears?

have you ever wondered,

that if death steals

a bit of your heart

every time it strikes,

how long will it be,

until the last shard is gone,

your heart

broken to dust,

shards all gone,

with nothing to heal?

america,

do you know the pain

that slices

through your heart

courses through your veins,

poison,

sinking deeper

every second

you live,

while they die? 

america.

do you know

the pain

that takes the light

from your eyes

and the smile

from your lips,

and while your heart

still beats, 

adds your name to the dead?

do you know

what it's like

to stand living

as 400,000 of us

lay dying?

do you know

that every heartbeat

pumps acid

instead of blood,

that every breath

is regretted,

like it's been stolen

from the dying?

do you know

what it's like

to want to give

your own heart

to the still and silent,

your own breath

to the buried?

do you know

what it's like

to say with

all your heart,

I'm sorry,

and know

that the best

you can give

will never be enough?

america.

do you know

true loss? 

A life is a lamp:

A paper lantern with a flame a lit inside

That someone once lighted and forgot about;

That shakily makes her way up to black-purple skies,

Tentatively reaching out, unable to stop,

For the flame that burns within her

Would sear her to ashes

If ever she should choose to stop.

Life is a Lamp:

When it falls, it shatters, the light flickering;

Almost gone--

Will you crawl the cold ground

In the dark searching, searching for the fallen shards;

For jagged glass that you hope

Will magically come back together

If only you could find every last piece.

Do you bloody your hands,

Frantically searching for those sharp shards

That you're missing?

But what does it matter if that light isn't shining?

You're still alright;

What was that light ever actually giving? 

What does it mean to be strong?

~~~~~~~~~~

What does it mean

To be stong?

I wonder,

Is she strong

For pushing through

All the pain and heartbreak,

Even through the tears?

Is he strong

For lying to the person

He loved the most to make

A better life for them all? 

Are they strong

For opposing their family

And breaking years of tradition

And bonds for their "rights?"

The people behind the war, were they strong?

Those men and women who sent others to fight

Knowing it would cost lives not their own? 

What about the ones we lost,

Not at the hands of others

Who're now gone,

Are they strong?

What about the one

Who just barely skates by,

Not on any power of their own,

Are they strong too? 

What does it mean

To be strong?

I wonder,

Can humans ever really be strong? 

Or already is everyone? 

Wow.  That's so powerful and beautiful.  I am not anywhere close to that good, but I guess I'll share some of my own stuff.

~ ~ ~

The whole world knows me now,

All my secrets are laid bare.

I have it all, they say-

And I guess it’s true.

But sometimes I feel like I’m drowning.

I’m surrounded by people 

But I still feel alone.

Hollow, like I’m missing something.

And so I take the train

Across the city to that little seaside town.

The one we used to visit every summer, just you and me,

Back when you were still here and I was still naive.

I wait until the sun has set and the crowds are gone.

I wait, and sometimes I imagine I’m waiting for you.

The sky fades into a indigo void and stars light up,

Tiny beacons of light calling out across galaxies.

I remember how we used to sit on the soft sand together.

We would talk about everything.

It was the one time I really felt close to you,

The one time when you weren’t preoccupied with work or yourself.

You would tell me about your dreams, your grand plans,

And how I was a part of them.

But little brothers tend to fade into the background

When there are more important things to do.

And there were always more important things to do.

You would always be there to rescue me when I needed it,

But disappeared when I just wanted to talk

Or needed help with the little things.

Still, I idolized you.

Wanted to be as strong and confident as you.

I dreamed of standing by your side

And being a champion like you.

But now you’re gone

And I’m older but not stronger or wiser.

I pretend that I am, because I have to be.

But I’m still isolated, alone.

I watch the night grow,

The moon reflected glittering in the waves.

I stand where the water meets the shore

And wonder what you’d say if you could see me now.