Creatively Chosen Words on Paper

He is Strong

She hides in corners,
In stairwells and coffee shops,
Sips water like it’s the blood of
Invisibility.
She looks down.
She stares at notebooks,
Empty chairs,
Floor tiles,
Wherever there’s no one to
Look back.
She’s best friends with the razors,
The lighters,
The pain.
She wishes for someone to
Speak to her,
She panics when they do,
She turns to her best friends,
The razors,
The lighters,
The pain.
 

She changes.
Cuts her hair,
Cuts ties with the feminine,
Cuts the sleeves off of his older brother’s
Sweaters so that they’ll fit.
 

He stands on rooftops and shouts to everyone,
Look at me,
I’m here,
I’ve always been here.
He looks forward,
Stares at whiteboards filled with poetry
And faces filled with poetry
And nature filled with poetry,
Finds the poetry of everything.
He loves.
His best friends become human,
Those like him,
Those next to him,
Those behind him,
Using him as a leader.
 

He tells himself over and over again
What he’s learned,
What he already knew;
That she may have been broken,
But he is strong.

Sharing Smiles

Line time, a break between
Activities and dinner.
Light is dimming, sun sinking
Down behind trees,
Hiding,
As we don’t have to
Here.
Music accompanies laughter,
More music made by laughter.
Everyone loving each other,
Hugging,
True acceptance,
True friendship.
Joyful for the moment,
Anxious for the thought of
Return into the
“Real world.”
How did I end up here?
Why do I have to leave
So soon?
Friends on the
Platforms trading
Cards and trading smiles,
The latter too often denied in the
“Real world.”
Does anyone else find this as
Incredible as I do?

Bandaged

When you walked out of my life,
I put a bandaid over my heart.
I put another on the back of my hand,
The last place you touched me before turning and
Leaving.
My mother asked me what happened;
I told her that you left me.
She told me that she was asking about the
Bandaid; I told her “I know.”
Her wrinkled forehead and
Slightly parted lips told me that
She couldn’t see how to connect the answer to the
Question.
I mentioned the time when I fell off the swing,
And although there was no mark left on my body,
I place a bandaid over the pain
And felt better.
I asked it wasn’t working this time.
I asked why this situation should be any
Different.

Triangle

Dark periwinkle signs,
Details in white lettering,
Pictures,
Rounded edges for safety.
Two options, two versions of the same,
Work as barriers.
One sign:
“Boys,” a stick person with a handicapped
Symbol beside him;
The other, “Girls,”
A stick person with the
Outline of societal expectations,
A triangle, shaping the lower
Half;
The same handicapped symbol
Beside her.
Remove the “girls” label,
The triangle still
Tells who
“Belongs.”
Imagine for a moment:
Those reading the sign by
The raised dots of the braille –
How can they tell where to go
Without the triangle?

Corsets

Hugs grasped like corsets,
Restricting breath and
Suppressing growth.
Touches felt like bee stings,
Sharp and sudden,
Causing tears for the moment and
Fear for forever.
Questions treated like car crashes,
Avoided at all costs
And excuses made upon colliding.
Phone calls chased like puppies,
Finding a way to reach despite
Barriers put between,
The ability to say 
“I was just worried about you” upon
Finally catching up.
“I love you”’s used as whiteout,
Erasing any reasons to leave
In place of one reason to stay.

Wrong

It was my first night in the unit.
I stood up to clear my plate from dinner,
They kindly told me that I needed to
Ask permission before
Standing up from the table.
I sat in the hallway and
Cried for twenty minutes because
I hated feeling like I had done something
Stupid,
Like I was
Wrong.

I don’t argue.
When a disagreement arises,
I will last no more than
Two minutes before saying
“I’m sorry,
I don’t know what I’m talking about,
I don’t know,
I don’t know,
I don’t know,
I’m sure you’re right,
Let’s not discuss this further.”
I’m not as much of an
Emotional wreck as I
Once was,
But some pieces of
The wreckage still
Harass me
Consistently.

Lessons Learned

We were ten years old,
Walking the Freedom Trail during a
Girlscout overnight
Trip.
Walking side by side,
I carried my father’s
Two-pound
Heavy metal flashlight;
She carried a plastic throwaway,
Courtesy of CVS.
She wasn’t looking where she was walking,
And I wanted to be watching when she tripped and
Landed on the
Broken brick sidewalk.
My excitement at the
Prospect of watching her fall
Led to my own
Descent towards the ground,
A much more painful one than
Hers may have been,
As my two-pound
Heavy metal flashlight chipped a piece of
Bone off of my
Thumb.
I’d like to say that I learned not to
Wish for others to get hurt.
Actually, though,
I think I only learned that
If you frequently ask to go home from school
Because of an annoying
Mosquito bite,
No one will believe you when you say that
Your hand really, really
Hurts.

Untitled

I learned long ago that there are no
Angels no
Miracles or
Magic and the
Stars that I wish on at
Night are already
Dead.
But I’ve learned recently that
Despite there being no real
Angels,
There are still angelic
People and those who
Would be worthy of angel
Status if it were
Real.
I’ve learned that there
May not be such thing as
Miracles but sometimes
Things still appear
Miraculous,
And whether or not it’s
Reality, people
Believe it and so it may as well be
True.
I’ve learned that magic isn’t real,
But sometimes the gleaming of
Sun on clear crystals,
Or maybe just on
Your face,
Can send feelings through my stomach like
Butterflies,
And there’s no way that
Those butterflies could have
Gotten there without
Magical intervention.
That even if there is no real magic,
We can still create it within ourselves.
I’ve learned that the
Stars that I wish on are dead,
But the wishes I wished for don’t
Have to be,
Because there’s no such thing as
Magic so if they were ever planning to come true,
I’d have to make them.
And so it doesn’t even matter if the
Stars are dead because I
Am not.

Icebox

I was born with a lovingly warm heart,
Filled with compassion and
Caring and
Friendship,
Eager to love and
Be loved.
With each “friend” that gained my trust and then
Forgot me,
They stole a few degrees of my
Comfort until I was left with only an
Icebox.