Poems that come to me at night
ANXIETY
Anxiety feels like riding a roller coaster,
That keeps going up,
And
You don’t know
When it’ll go down.
Then, you realise
There’s a switch in your hand
To control
When you dip
Or
If you dip.
There’s an issue, though.
You can’t see how far from the ground you are.
BROWN
I remember learning the colors in sign language.
A red lip,
Some shaking letters,
A black cap,
An opening orange.
The one I recall most vividly,
Was brown.
A hand down the side of your face.
“There’s a little brown in all of our skin” my teacher said.
“At least a little.”
A little in all of us.
Maybe we’re more alike than we like to believe.
TAKING
To take a picture is
To deny
To capture
To stop.
To deny the possibility of continuation, suspending something precious in an eternal, desired form.
To capture, take, and keep, something that otherwise can’t be captured, taken or kept.
To stop time, even if just for a moment.
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