Parental Guidance

My mother is good at adapting-

I am not.

When change is necessary

she tackles it with all her might-

no fear

no worries.

Just strength.

I cannot adjust so easily.

Change does not come naturally to me-

I am afraid of the unknown

   afraid of what cannot be seen.

I want to be strong,

     brave,

   (like my mother)

but I am not.

But still my mother is there

guiding me in the right direction

giving me her strength

giving me her wisdom.

And for that,

I am thankful.

   

The Process

There are one thousand words

flying through the air

squeezing out my oxygen

tempting me to pick

       to choose

       to decide

which word to write next.  

Hurry.

Or the oxygen will leave-

the last breathe pushed from my lungs.

They fly at the speed of light

(waiting/tempting/begging) me

(my lungs pleading)

to grab a word.

I do.

The ink stains the page

oxygen is released.

I am free.

I write. One page. Two. Three.

  Hurry-
before the process repeats.

Spectrum

I try to disguise myself in filters

hoping

that eventually

I will turn into a kaleidoscope of beauty;

 something worthy of reflection.

But the duplicates dulled my senses

and the filters destroyed my reality.

I cannot distinguish between photography and authenticity.

I tried to develop from the negative Polaroids

but the masterpiece I made of myself-

the pastel colors that filled my flaws,

the dark room that my mind wandered through,

the angles of the world that my soul saw-

Was overexposed.