Rwanda

¿Quién te dejó matar?

¿Quién te enseñó odiar?

¿Quién te dio permiso destruir?

Y ¿qué permiso tiene esa persona para dártelo?

¿Quién del cielo o infierno o cualquier otra parte tiene ese tipo de poder?

Pues yo te lo digo.

Nadie.

Yo te juro que no hay ninguna persona tan inteligente, tan sabia, tan respetada que él merece el poder de matar.

Y si la raza humana crece por cien miles de años, nunca habrá una persona así.

Porque nunca habrá una persona que merece morir por el odio ciego y la ignorancia de otro humano.

Qué sencillo es, dejar vivir a una otra persona.Qué obvio, ver su corazón tan parecida a la tuya.

¿Cuántos años tenemos cuando aprendemos amar? ¿Un mes? ¿Una semana? ¿Una hora?

Pero, cuánto tiempo requiere crear un odio, y cuánto más requerimos enseñarle odiar a una persona sin conocerle, por un prejuicio sin razón

¿Y por qué?

Yo nunca entenderé.

Pero te digo, te prometo, te juro en mi vida

Que nadie lo merece

Y yo te pregunto a ti,

¿Vale la pena?

Castles in the Sand

We waited til the lowest tide and ran along the beach
Setting aside all of the goals we thought we had to reach
We swam as far as we could go and danced back on the sand
And didn't have to wait til sunset to walk hand in hand
Remember that? We built a castle with a great big moat
And I couldn't stop laughing as you showed me how to float

We drew a heart into the sand and each wrote our own name
We knew the tides would rise and yet we wrote them all the same
Some kids came to the beach so we just sat and watched them play
And you told me we'd have children as great as them someday
I tried hard not to tell myself you'd change your mind for good
Although somewhere behind my heart I'm sure I knew you would

As we pretended to count each miraculous sun beam,
I prayed to God I wouldn't wake to find it all a dream
Yet when we came back to the shore at dawn just the next day,
The names and footprints and even castles were washed away
What fools we'd been, when we'd known their inevitable fate
And yet we'd drawn, so focused on the works we thought so great

Of course I woke up soon enough to find that you had left
I wiped away a tear or two and continued, bereft
Waves have long since erased the shores and summer turned to fall
And now I wonder, was it all a nice dream after all?

¿Quién Soy Hoy?

This was a Spanish essay prompt, but then we didn't turn it in so now it is a poem.

¿Quién Soy Hoy?
Soy una niña, desordenada, confundida, decidiendo
Soy una mujer, independente, impaciente, lista para salir
Quiero correr, escapar, mudarme a otra parte y nunca regresar
Quiero quedarme aquí, cómoda, alegre como ya soy
Estoy lista para la competencia, estoy loca con ansiedad
Hago lo que quiero, cuando lo quiero, como lo quiero
Y temo que los demás me juzguen
Soy hija, hermana, estudiante, maestra, amiga
No sé quién yo seré en cinco años, un año, una semana, una hora
Apenas recuerdo quién era hace una hora, y el resto se desvanece en mi memoria
Pero ¿ahora misma?
Soy una niña-mujer
Impaciente-contenta
Inteligente-confundida
Lista-inquieta
Emocionada-aburrida
Feliz-triste
Y llena de esperanza

Writer's Block

There is a yellow sheet of paper in my lap
It is small, and two of the sides are jagged
They have been ripped.
A little green pencil is in my hand
(How did it get there?)
And I am waiting

Waiting for the ideas to come to me
Waiting for some supernatural inspiration
For that moment they call "Aha!"

I look around
They are writing
Are they all so inspired?
So clever?
So filled with original ideas?
Or just pretending to be?

I close my eyes, to speed the waiting
Listen to the radio waves of imagination
Who? How?
I'll write it down when I figure it out
But for now

The paper sits
Small, yellow
Folded funny
Unfolded funnier
Rough around the edges
Empty

Friend

Sorry for not writing for quite a while. I'm taking a fiction writing class right now (link here), so inspiration or metaphors or little tidbits that would otherwise have gone to poetry are being kneaded into assignments for that instead. It's alright, it's good to expand your horizons and I am thoroughly enjoying the class. Hopefully I'll write more poetry soon, though. I miss it.

Friend
You ask, "May I call you my sister?"
No sir, you may certainly not
For I could not see you as brother
Though you treat me as a brother ought

You tell me you see me as teammate
But we both know I'm more than that
If that's all you think you see in me
I think we need to have a chat

I'd never imply that I love you
You say it, but only in jest
For in your uncertain subconscious
I'm always second or third best

I know that you have been my mentor
And I've been your teacher and guide
But instead of getting on our pedestals,
I suggest we stand side by side

What's the use in frivolous labels?
And dear, I don't mean to offend,
For you're so much better than any one name
And hence you're above all my friend

Klutzy

So this one's more or less unfinished... I could tell you it was meant to be that way for effect but it's not, that's just kind of how it turned out. Maybe you'll help?
I thought of the first couple stanzas of this one while doing vineyard work far far away, but because I had no paper I couldn't get very far into the poem without forgetting the beginning :P
It is actually a song but... I'm not singing it for you so hopefully you'll like it as a poem :)

Klutzy
I'm a little
Klutzy
Just a wee bit
Clumsy
Kinda sorta... You know...
Awkward with my feet

When you tell me "come here"
I will try but-
Oh dear
I am falling over
Continually

They tell me it's cute for the first fifty times
As I stumble through ice rinks and high mountain climbs
It's not like it's something I'm trying to do
I think I'm alright and then-
There goes my shoe

Somewhere in the awkward our two paths have crossed
You look know where you're going, I'm completely lost
You make fun of me for hanging out with nerds
And it doesn't help that I
Trip
On my words

But you know, I think that you're pretty darn sweet
And maybe you'll help me get back on my feet
Sorry for the trouble I'm putting you through
Because- I admit it- I'm falling for you

I'm still pretty
Klutzy
More than sorta
Clumsy
And what's even worse, I'm
Awkward with my heart

Hands

Sorry I haven't posted since Spain, I have a bunch of new unfinished poems and... plenty to do that takes priority over finishing them :P

Hands
They're dirty- well thank you for that
And there's a blister on my thumb
This pinky doesn't stretch out flat
Please don't point it out like I'm dumb

If you have nice hands, I won't whine‒
I too would like your satin skin‒
But my own hands suit me just fine
Each callous shows where I have been

These hands have climbed more trees and rocks
Than you've seen any grown man climb
They've greased engines and wound up clocks
And I splinter them all the time

They play tennis and violin,
You'll see it on my fingertips
And they get bored holding a pen
Or bucket without handle grips

Look! Here's a scar from boiling tea
This part has even had frostbite
And here's where the windshield cut me
On icy roads close to midnight

These hands work so hard kneading dough
For the best bread you've ever had
They can also hold newborns, though,
And give you great hugs when you're sad

My wrists may have some funny tans
And my fingers may not align
But my whole life is in these hands
And I thank heaven that they're mine