if I write a poem

if a tree falls in a forest
and no one is around to hear it,
does it make a sound?

if I write a poem
and no one is around to read it,
does it make a sound?

if I write a poem
and it heals a scar on my soul,
if I write a poem
and it gives me peace of mind,
if I write a poem
and then throw it away...

all those poems were still written
even if I was the only one around
just like they would still have been written if a million people heard me

if I write a poem
and no one is around to read it,
does it make a sound?

poems are not trees
they are forests
and the creatures that live there
poems are living, breathing forests
and they all make
a lot of noise

The Sea

As the sea rushes to the shore,

I run-

as if escaping 

fate would be so easy-

it recedes and I crawl back,

awaiting its return

with my hands in the air,
fingers reaching towards the sky.

Rough waves

smooth into a gentle foam,

that tickles my feet and

draws me in

for a shocking embrace

a cold that wakes me up

to see the day more clearly. 

Colors dance in the sky

ones I’ll never match with a brush. 

Birds do their morning rounds,

singing their hellos. 

A crab peeks out of the sand to check

if I am still standing on his front lawn. 

What stories this ancient water holds-

secrets that could wash entire cities off the map;

and hope and peace that could put them back together-

only the lost know. 

As the sea rushes to the shore

I take a step forward and

let it

wash

over

me.