Monthly Archives: September 2015

My Cracked Bubble


The glass of my bubble cracks

A single impact that I can trace everything back to

I believe the lie that everything is logical

and I can trace events back to a single reason

I run my finger along the edges of the




Of my

Shattered bubble.

The glass in now stained

It makes pretty colors when the sunlight comes in

I just want to crawl up inside myself and be safe

Hug myself tight and not let go

Bring all that I am inward

I want to feel small and

believe that life is simple

I just my world to be safe

I want to glue the pieces of cracked glass

back into my bubble and make sure they never fall on me

I want to take every precaution

So that I have no reason to worry

Now the glass is tinted

Darked from the outside

Hard to see in

No one can see inside my soul

It churns slowly

Almost in a calming way


I can see everything

I can see everyone on the outside

But I am just rolling around in my bubble

Sometimes upside down

Sometimes right side up

I am comfortable here

This is my space

This is where I am

This is home

It is not my safe place

It is not where I am suppose to always be

It is not my prison

It is where I can freak out

It is where I bang on the glass

But not hard enough to break it

But just hard enough to crack a little more

Glass allows us to see out the window

But when the glass breaks don’t think of it

as the world falling down

But instead the window becomes a door.



Holding White and Red Roses

All the eyes stared at me

like I am their TV and the cameras are truly their popcorn.

Words were spoken with difficultly.

The words were hard to be expressed though the mouth,

but conveyed flawlessly with a look and a soft smile.

Tears bled down his rough cheek.

The whole room felt clammy.

The fake silk lining of my jacket rubbed against me.

Something wet escaped the organs that I see out of.

I was holding roses.

White and red.

They were in vases,

not plastic wrapping from the store.

This took planning.

Planning to make me feel special.

A smile was etched on his face.

A smile was etched on my face.

I do not think I could have taken it down even if I wanted to.

I did not.

This was special.

This moment was special.

I do not really remember the words

he said.

I remember the feeling.

I was glowing.

Glowing and

Crying and

Smiling and

Holding white and red roses.



Not Wasting Time

Isn’t amazing how just one time outside

can make me want to do nothing for the rest of the day?

The sun’s burning kiss on my skin

the eerie florescent lights just do not feel the same.

The wind rustling my hair

the air conditioning vent just is not right.

The uneasy ground beneath my flip-flops

the gum-plastered floor is not quite the same.

The hidden blue sky with a fluffy coding of clouds wisps

the tiled ceiling does not quite make the cut.

The sound of leaves rushling and birds calling

the chorus of sniffles and coughs is not the sound I prefer.

Oh, does a minute or two outside

make me not want to do a day’s work?

I just want to lay on the grass and

stare up at the sky

with no thoughts in my brain

and just be.

I just want to be and

not do.

I want to ponder about nothing

and not think constructively.

I just want to lay here

and write poems in my head

and feel no obligation.

I want my world to be small

and notice the little things.

I want to breath deeply and

enjoy the breathe for what it is.

I am not wasting time

I am just using it.

When I have everything to do,

I want to do nothing.

When I have nothing to do,

the idea of soaking up the moment does not cross my mind.

Oh, the joys of priorities!

Isn’t amazing how just one time outside

can make me want to do nothing for the rest of the day?

It is not amazing.

It is simple.

It is beautiful.

It is just being.



Over Here

I am surrounded by life and energy

It is bursting through the walls

It echos down the halls

The group over there

is chatting and laughing

Talking of things did and done

I do not join in

They are over there

and I am over here

A clear separation

A hard line

A wall, impossible to climb over

But I made this separation

But I drew this hard line

But I built the wall

I am different

I am alone

But there is nothing wrong in that fact

Alone can be good

Alone can make people notice


makes me decide who I am

and what choices I make because of who I am

I do not join in on their type of fun

Because of a lack of a want

I forgo their folly

I am alone

But not quite lonely

Just feeling out of place

Needing someone to guide me

Feeling awkward because people stare

They notice

They see the difference

They see that I am different

I hold to a different standard

Not one of Earth

but of the Heavens

I am alone, yes

But I am alone with God



The Simple Goal

It’s such a simple goal

It’s comes so easy to us

It comes with little thought

but just a small ‘Yay!’

Yes, we might practice on our form

or distance

But nothing like this

Biting down hard on his lip

The look of concentration in his eyes

The force behind the throw

The ball leaves his finger tips

Archs high in the air

. . . and misses











A hundred times over

The sweat dripping down his neck

His hair damp from the effort

His shirt wrinkled

He takes the ball

Gets a firm grip


His wheelchair kicks back against the force

He watches the ball, longingly wishing it would swoosh inside the net

It circles the rim

and falls

on the other side

Another miss

I run across the gym floor for the ball

I put the ball inside his reach

He looks at me

He shakes his head

He wants to give up

He is tired

He knows he’ll never make it

He’s done this so many times

Each time so close

but not close enough

He can’t do it

It’s not possible

“Hey, I know you’re tired.

But keep on trying.

We can do this.

YOU can do this.”

His hands slowly move forward

and takes the ball

He paws his fingers forward

Moves the ball into the position he has done so many times

each time with the ball missing by an inch or two

He throws


I run for the ball

I pray

“Dear God,

This means so much for him.

Please let him do this.


I turn around

His hand is up to his face


his whole body shows it

I move the ball around in the air

trying to get his attention.

I call his name.

“I know you can do this.

You are so close.

All this has been practice

and this time you can make it.

Come on, you can do this!”

He takes the ball

He throws the ball

He misses

I run for the ball across our side of the gym

No one sees his struggle

No one seems to think it matters

They should

They don’t see his smile

when the ball hits him in the face

and he laughs

They don’t see when he is trying

but can’t seem to do ‘good enough’

They don’t see his longing looks at the other kids

to be like them

To move

To use his legs

To carry on a conversation

I am jumping up and down by this point

“You are doing awesome!

This is all on you.

You can do this!”

I emphasize each word with a jump.

I look at the clock

one minute until gym is over

I throw the ball to him.

He catches it awkwardly, like he always does

But he catches it and that makes it beautiful.

He looks at me.

I nod my head vigorously.

He bites down on the left side of his lower lip

Moves the ball into position.

The ball leaves his hands

I hear his wheelchair kick back from the force he puts on the ball.

The ball arches perfectly.

The ball rolls on the rim

. . . and falls in.

The net swooshes.

The ball falls

The ball bounces.

The music is cut

and the coach yells to clean up.

I turn

and see the biggest smile

He starts laughing

I start jumping again

I praise him on what an accomplishment it is.

“I am so proud of you!

You worked so hard

and you made it!”

I look around at all the others in the class

knowing all too well that they could have done this feat so easily

But they aren’t the ones who practiced non stop

But they aren’t the ones who are in a wheelchair

But they aren’t the ones who kept going when they were tired

It’s such a simple goal

It’s comes so easily to us

It comes with little thought

but just a small ‘Yay!’

But life is not fair

Some people struggle to do the simplest things

The simplest tasks can take a great amount of effort

Nothing like the satisfaction in himself he feels when it is done.

He softly whispers,

“We made a basket.”

 Håkan Dahlström / Foter / CC BY

Håkan Dahlström / Foter / CC BY

An Ability

This crazy world of ours

People think they need to be strong and put on a tough face

when they are hurting and worn out

Yes! It shows determination and fighting

But we lose the ability to be vulnerable

To be vulnerable

is an ability

not a characteristic

It’s something you willing do

It’s a mindset

It’s actions

It’s asking for help

It’s admitting that you can’t do it on your own

It’s NOT giving up

It’s giving out

Pouring out your heart

and willing everything to be out there

Being vulnerable is not weak

It’s strong


But it’s so hard

you want to believe you are in control

Being vulnerable is acknowledging that you found out it is a lie

Maybe you are afraid

That someone will stick their finger

in your wound after you tell them everything

Maybe, but people see the trust you put in them and they reciprocate

Possibly, showing weakness is against your nature

Who ever said your nature was right in the first place?

And who ever said vulnerability is weak?

Just try it

Just be vulnerable

It’s an ability that is hard to start

and even harder to master

but the rewards are amazing

Just try it

Just be vulnerable

 symphony of love / Foter / CC BY-SA

symphony of love / Foter / CC BY-SA


Why can we

as a human race

not know what others,

people closest to us

are feeling

or thinking?

Is it because

we don’t observe

close enough?

Or maybe

we have become

such good liars


that no one can?

No one can tell the difference between lies and truths

We’ve got so good at fibbing

not for our own good.

We only show surface level feelings

and not how we are truly doing

On the inside

The insecurities

The fears

The hidden secrets

The things we carry around with us everyday

but mask it


with a smile

or a simple lie in a text


‘Pretty good’ Smiley face!

It’s so easy

to act okay but not truly be

but it is so not worth it.