Tomorrow: All is All

Einstein said:
“Learn from yesterday,
live for today,
hope for tomorrow.
The important thing is to not stop questioning.”
He looked to tomorrow.
Saw the horror to come.
Took refuge in the hope of America.

Lincoln said:
“You cannot escape
the responsibility of tomorrow
by evading it today.”
He stood in the crevice
Of North and South.
A young country on his shoulders.

Maya Angelou said:
“Hold those things that tell your history
and protect them.
During slavery,
who was able to read or write or keep anything?
The ability to have somebody to tell your story to
is so important.
It says:
‘I was here.
I may be sold tomorrow.
But you know I was here.’”
She held her head high
A lyric through chains
To be Free in America

Tomorrow may be dark
The clouds rolling in
Down the plains
Threatening to consume us
We may be angry, and sad,
Never resigned.

We must plant our steel
Raise a shield of
Love, Equality, Inclusivity, Shelter
Look to the storm and say:
“You are not welcome.
You will not bend us.
You will not break us.
We are Americans.
We stand for all.
All is not some
All does not count the coin in your pocket
Or the color of your skin
Or the religion you follow
Or the gender you name
Or the person you love
All is All.”

You are not welcome, storm
You will not define us
we dig from the basement
To the light
Your storm meets
Sunlight on the horizon.


Love Is … and it’s enough

I know it’s been quiet around here.  It’s what happens when you suddenly, but thankfully and amazing, get thrown into a show that goes up within two weeks of joining… Now that it is underway and there’s oh, a week before I start rehearsal for another show, I can sort through things and get back to posting and working on that book that’s coming out in November…

But for now… solemnly, I cannot let what happened in Orlando go by.  I stand as an ally and friend to the LGBT community.  I will stand and fight and pray and love with you.

And while I haven’t been able to write for some time (lots of reasons that will compose a blog post later), I have been able to write poetry.  This one… this one is for you.  For the world.  For every human being out there… and because Lin-Manuel Miranda has given us a mantra…

Love Is…  Enough.

I want to scream
To cry
To raise my voice so loud that
The Heavens shake
That the World shakes
That every human sees each other
Each other
Every vein runs red
With the same blood
Everyone is
Some.  One.
I want my voice
To rise with millions
That enough is enough
Love is enough


Poet First, Writer Second

I decided to share some poetry today.  I have, and will always, say that I am a poet first and a writer last.  Even from a young age when the teacher would give a creative writing assignment and we got to choose the medium, I always fell back on my poetry.  In rough, emotionally draining times, it has been poetry that has raised me up and refueled the muse.  There’s just something to freeing in the poetic form.

It’s tough to leak poetry into prose since so much of poetry tends to break almost every grammar rule, but I try to sneak it in.  It doesn’t always work, but when it does, it feels like I’ve written a piece of my soul into it.

So, here it is.  My poetry.

Grass as Tall as My Waist

The grass is as tall as my waist
Unwanted.  Dancing free in the breeze.
A twisting, rippling ocean
Reclaiming the field
Wild.  Untamed.  Elegant.
I am a blemish, in my human flesh
Clothed only in a tattered, stained soul
Where grass stretches upward
Whispering to each other in doses of wind

I stand.  Step.  Close my eyes.
Tickled by their faces
Caressed, as if I am one of them
Tossed in the air
Trampled into dirt
To grow again.  New.  Green. Strong.
Unwanted.  Dancing free in the breeze.

Where little things hide.  Safe.
And animals hunt to feed little things.
The grass still whispers.  Ripples.  Sways.
Stretching into the buzzing air.
Resilient and delicate in a single curve.
Plucked or stamped down.
A post for butterflies or hummingbirds.
Always as tall as my waist.
Unwanted.  Dancing free in the breeze.

I hear their stories, feel their pain.
I see their joy, taste their strength.
Covering the field
Like a watery tide
I whisper with them.
Am trampled with them.
I am
Unwanted.  Dancing free in the breeze.
As tall as my waist.
Reclaiming the field
To begin anew.