My Name Is Not Mavis

writings

  • Fear crawls into my lap
    Like a cat looking for a
    Warm place to rest.

    I stroke her arching back
    And reassure her—
    I will never forget to feed you.

  • Why I Walk

    If I don’t walk, I can’t see.
    And, if I don’t see,
    I can’t clear my heart
    Of the messy debris
    That piles up
    Between you and me.

    So I will walk,
    Face exposed to the sky.
    My eyes a breath.
    My step a heartbeat.
    Freeing you and me.

  • I Hope the World Is Good to You

    I hope the world is tender and kind to you these day.

    I hope when Mercury does its dance into retrograde
    You laugh as you stand in the wind.
    Taking great gulps of air and letting it blow your hair
    In ways that photograph best.

    I hope the world is gentle and safe.

    I hope you drape yourself in twinkle lights.
    And sway as you walk into your day whatever it may be.
    And that you watch your hands as they
    Dance across a keyboard, wash a dish,
    Touch a child, hold a towel, claim a key
    And think, this is me and isn’t that marvelous.

    I hope the world is brilliant and bright.

    I hope you use the words lovely, miraculous, wonderment,
    Joyous, content, especially grand
    When asked that standard, “How are you?”
    Because you are always so much more than “Fine.”

    I hope the world is soothing and soft.

    I hope that you have books and skies and flowers
    In a pretty vase to renew your faith.
    That you have resilient thoughts to
    Keep your darkest heart corners available
    And painted in glowing, fluorescent hues.

    I hope the world is good to you these days.

    And when the world is not good to you.
    When days are a little hard-edged and cruel.
    When you are tilting from heartbreak and angst.
    I hope you know that I am grasping your hand from afar.
    Holding you true while shouting prayers
    To the angels on your behalf.
    Witnessing as you discover yourself anew.

  • The Politics of Things

    You cannot win over contempt.
    You can only shade your eyes,
    And slide to the left or the right carefully
    To avoid, with grace, the angels’ wrath.

  • Don’t Tell Yourself

    Don’t tell yourself anything harsh.
    You will be buried in tough love.

    Instead, adore yourself the most
    Of any blade of grass in the field.
    Grow towards the sun
    And root yourself in dark, black earth.

    And if the dirt is sandy or filled with stones,
    That is okay.
    You will still be
    The green that catches the eye
    And makes the heart sing
    With awe.