Poetry, recent
Comment 1

It’s ok, it’s ok.

When I was lost,
Looking even for myself,
I went first
To the mirror in my bathroom.

Lips and eyes and breasts
With no answers
Just “sure, maybe.”

I took myself outside,
And looked up to the sky
That went first
To the sun,
But couldn’t stay.

Clouds, an occasional bird and wires-
Full of conversations and connections,
None that led to me.

“Poor me!” I wailed
I am so lost
So unloved
So alone
Don’t I deserve?

I was docile
And decent
Digestible even.

I thought of the trees
In the forest
And even went to see them.

They felt familiar
But then I heard about the roots
And the fungi
On a radio show
That lots of people were listening to,

And went looking again
For something real

Stars, yes
And no.
Coyotes, yes
And no.
Unborn babies, yes
And no.

I checked under rocks with the names carved in
in abandoned nests with the eggs still in

On busy streets
On streets made of dirt

In office buildings with suits and mid-length skirts
In abandoned buildings with leather boots and line-hung shirts

None of them were like me.
All of them were like me.
They gave me no answers;
Just sure, maybe.

With the others,
Thinking of the others.
We’re all that way
It’s ok,
It’s ok.


Art:  Gosia Herba via

1 Comment

  1. tina lege ballentine says

    loved the poem……you are also a niece and a grand daughter and a cousin and a friend…..and of course a very beautiful woman………..Tee


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