Poetic Intermission

empowerment music poetry spring women writing Apr 09, 2021


New Growth

Basking in the sun

Feeling reptilian

I had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Cool moss below my feet

Potting soil caked deep in my fingernails

Microbial contractors

I can feel the serotonin rushing in.

Its meditative work

Pulling invaders from the beds where our fruits used to be

Turning the dirt to uncover the welcomed

Wriggly guests

My sons belly laugh fills the bird song air

Is this what it feels like to be brought back to life?

Discarding old roots

Replanting new ones

To blossom into a new



Will I have more appreciation for the showers now?

Knowing they are essential for growth 

But guilty for keeping me trapped 

Hiding the ultraviolet rays from me


Cold and pale.

I beg for the release of the sun

My body feels disconnected

The earth seems so far away

Air roots forming at my fingertips

Attempting connection

To breathe the air

Without getting wet.

But hope has overcome my imprisoned mind

My body can feel the tingling of spring

The crocuses and daffodils blossom

Disregarding the morning chill

The dogwood trees in the early stages of blooming

Stretch tall

A reminder that we are nearly there

Impatience comes to mind

But I’ll enjoy the slow blooming 

An analogy for life

And enjoy the fragrant

Chilled air

Before the sun comes up.

Let me teach you

Let me teach you

That I’m not yours to take

I’m not a commodity

I’m not a game to be played

A body to be conquered

A person to be slayed

Let me teach you 

That I’m not yours to touch

I’m not yours to fix

I’m not here as your crutch 

A pawn in your army

A cleaner of your dust

Let me teach you 

That a woman is not 

Just a mother

A caretaker

A sister to a brother

She is not a trophy

A consolation

A server for another

Let me teach you 

That a woman

Is a fire

Not a source of your desire

But a flame

Burning hot in the rain

Not a temptress

But an actress

The main character in the play

Let me teach you 

That woman

Is not an addition to man

But an equal

The brains of the master plan

That you take credit for

Without realizing that we can

And we willl

Execute without a man.

Let me teach you

That the skin in which I wear

Is not an invitation

But my story 

And each individual tear

Is another example of the strength

That we have to bear

That we have fought

We have persevered 

And you watched without a care.

So when we teach you

About the trials we face

The torturous embrace

That man has forced on us

The fear

The tears

The walking with fists

Key in hand

Prepared to spear

We are attempting an understanding

That you might hear

The pain in our voices

The longing 

The fear

Acknowledge our tears

So that we can be free

To put down those spears

Let our guard rest



Get the pressure off our chests

And just be

So please

Let me teach you


More Time

I want more time

Not to live

But in a day.

I want to feel weightless

When there are thirty things on my plate

Sit with my son and hold him when he scrapes his knee

Not rushing to the next important thing

Not feeling the pressure

To get things done 

In a timely manner

I want more time

To watch my baby grow

Watch him blossom like a flower in spring

Like those videos


But just me

Sitting and watching 

As he becomes a boy

To a man.

I want more time

To create

To paint

To draw

To express the day on paper

Paintbrush in hand

No interruptions

Debussy playing in the background


And sweet.

I want more time

To stop on the side of the highway

And watch the cars go

Guessing the stories of the passersby 

I want to stop and snap pictures

Of the blue herons standing erect

In the middle of a foggy field

Breathing the morning air

Collecting strength

For flight.

I want more time

To sit with my husband at night

Not worrying about when the sun will rise

Or the tasks of tomorrow

Catching up on things we forgot to mention

Marveling in each others company

Memorizing the lines on his face 

The sound of his voice

The scars on his hands

So that I don’t forget. 

The days start to blur

And the tasks never end

There’s always the dishes

The laundry

Sweeping the kitchen

But while my body aches for movement

My mind holds me hostage



So instead I sit here wishing


For more time to kill.


Sad songs

I listen to sad songs
to make me feel. 
On the days when I’m blissful,
Slightly manic,
And want to bask in melancholy. 
A bath of signature notes
Intended to hit you in the soul
What could bring tears
brings chill bumps the size of tiny peaks
Hairs standing on end
Reverberating in the orchestra of minor keys
It makes the rain seem less dim
Clear skies sing 
And brings everything into focus. 
I listen to sad songs
Searching for intention
Words that ebb and flow like waves
Intricate and true
With meaning far more relatable than the pop songs that numb us. 
A catchy beat fades
A genuine lyric stays
Like a tattoo on the soul
It’s permanent. 
I want to be moved
Pushed to inspiration and inquisition 
I want the words to bruise me
The notes to cut me
And then wrap me in silk as the notes fade
Signaling the end of the score. 
I listen to sad songs
Like therapist to patient
Soaking up the words and melodies creating a safe space
For reflection
Even if it is my own
And when the session is over 
And the melodious melancholy fades
I’ll feel the peace the artist intended
Knowing that in that moment
It was written for me

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