Those are not flaws. They make you only more you.

I have a fascination with birthmarks. There is something about them that is absolutely beautiful to me. I'm at a loss to pinpoint what exactly is so intriguing about them. It may be because it's like a plot twist of the body or an unexpected surprise. It may be because they remind me just how much of a patchwork quilt we all are. Or it may be because in a subtle way they challenge airbrushed ideals. Not in a hostile way, but rather in a standing-at-a-distance-smiling-and-waving kind of way. I must admit, my feelings have not always been this way toward my well-known friend, melatonin. As a child, bold brown freckles covered my entire face. They demanded (unwanted) attention and were far bolder than the timid girl that stood behind them. I remember not being overly fond of them, except when I was at my cousin's grandmother's house (my cousin's grandmother on her dad's side. But wouldn't that be funny if I referred to my own grandmother that way? Moving on). She liked me a whole lot and held my freckles in high esteem. She would compliment me on them (as if I had some hand in it) every time I went to her house. Her own girlhood freckles had since faded into aging spots, but somehow that created some kind of continuity between us. For her sake, I was glad I was freckled. There, at her house, I was overly fond of them. Maybe that's why I like birthmarks now, because Yolande thought freckles were special.


I have a two-freckled constellation that sits on the crater of my hip, a brown butterfly that rests on my shoulder and a coffee-stained ankle bone.

Little Sister Kind of Love

The morning I left, I woke her up to hug her good-bye. As she slides down my body back into a deep sleep, she whispers, " Have fun. Be safe. Jesus loves you."

A fourteen-year-old that's never really been fourteen. She is who she is and matures when she wants. She lives outside of age and cannot hear society's screaming voice of expectations. She doesn't know she's supposed to try and fit in. She doesn't know she's 'supposed' to try to be any other way. Part of me thinks it's absolutely bold to one's self so freely. On the other hand, a gift that she doesn't even know she is "being bold" just by being herself. She likes alligators, olives, the Amazon, tree houses and is quite vocal if she thinks someone is making fun of her maternal lineage. She is persistent in a way that only the youngest child can be. And she'll get what she wants out of life.

a small little summer ride

                     This summer I rode my bicycle across the northern half of the country with eight incredible individuals. We were a group of non-cyclists trying to make a difference. We rode for victims of human trafficking, girls forced into prostitution and for Burmese refugees. It was a humbling and renewing experience. These are a few photographs from the trip.

           “We didn’t have much when we started this tour. We had a bike and two legs that could peddle.”

                     “Cycling clothes are a little like baby clothes. Diaper pants and Velcro shoes.”

                                        “You sound like a coyote in a trash compactor.”

  “Are we really sitting in a van, eating lasagna, watching the sunset because there are too many damn mosquitoes…sorry…dang mosquitoes?”

                                                  “America, you have created machines.”

                                    “Twelve hours ago we were taunting a security camera.”

Untitled #002

The words are pushed into me
somewhere in my back
finding their way through the canal of my throat
coming through my teeth in a whisper
I whisper in the shower alone
standing on the tips of toes
as if to go into a demi plie
like learned as a child
but I don't demi plie anymore
I stand there in releve as the hot water creates an illusion of cleansing
whispering to myself as the words fall into the porcelain tub and are washed down the drain.






On a lighter note, I just learned how to create hyperlinks. I know, about 13 years late. But I can't wait to employ this newly discovered ability.

Beauty

Friday was a strange day

Dead body flowing down the Mississippi
the first one I see today
can't help but no looking away
watching death as the waters sway
older man with his hat floating along too
Two minutes to the time
Too late to do anything
but watch
and I did
I watched
hand over mouth with eyes stretched wide trying to take it all in
but hide from the sight at the very same time
like fistfuls of crushed flowers
empty habitat where life once dwelt
traces of color
rimmed and lifeless

Dead body flowing down the Mississippi
the first one I see today
resting upon the waters sway
to find peace from your troubles
the brown waters wrap you up from sorrows
swallow you in warm embrace

Living the Life