Are you dead crumpled paper, or origami life?

Are your edges all torn, or cut precisely by knife?

Are you watermarked, stained, by ink and by tears?

Or are you bonded white paper without any smears?

Are you ruled or unruly, hole-punched or stapled?

Are you stacked way up high or shoved under a table?

Are you bound and collated or scattered, mislabeled?

Are you fiction or truth, poem or fable?

Are you sold by the sheet, or part of a ream?

Is your font tight and crisp or illegible stream?

In the end who’s to say what is better or worse

For all pages contain a blessing or curse

So iron the creases and place ink in your well

Put pen to your paper; its your story to tell

Don’t fret about spelling or grammar, my friend

Start “In the beginning…”, and conclude with “The End!”

Dear reader,

My daughter took a fixture of boxing gloves embellished with rhinestones and asked that I write a little poem to go with the image. This is what I came up with:

(G)LOVE

Spar with my emotions

Hit me with your love

Practice your technique

With your rhinestone gloves

Footwork, block, and jab

Uppercut to my heart

Dodging knockout punches

Holding us apart

Clinch around my neck

Kiss me with your sweat

Push me to the ropes

To neutralize the threat

The judges hold the score

Right before the count

Four and three, two, one

The winner is pronounced

Standing side by side

Fanfair from above

Bruises, scars, and cuts

The prize, our rhinestone love

I grew up in a world where you were to be seen, but not heard.

I grew up in a world of “do as I say, not as I do”.

I grew up in a world where it was unacceptable to cry lest you be ostracized for being weak or girlish. Unless, of course, you were being beaten, as crying was encouraged.

I grew up in a world where blue is for boys and pink is for girls, or everything is either black or white. There is no color spectrum in between.

I grew up in a world where presenting habits, preferences, mannerisms, speech, and style that is not in line with masculine stereotypes meant you are less than a man.

I grew up in a world of preselected choices and rejection of uniqueness. Rebellion was disrespect. How dare I be different?

I grew up in a world where you could be a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant, an engineer, or a banker. You could not choose to be an artist or a musician…those were hobbies, not careers.

I grew up in a world of obligations and not choice.

I grew up in a world where I learned to survive by hiding in plain sight though conformance, silence, and camouflage.

I was not of that world, but I complied and conformed to avoid the shame and stigma of being different.

I grew up cold.

And one day I realized I escaped that world physically, but never mentally.

How could I unlearn survival? How would I shed the things that protected and kept me safe all those hidden years.

How would I drown out shame when it has the loudest voice in my head? How could I escape the prison of my mind?

How could any small, tenuous steps of liberation become a full hearted sprint toward happiness when I am weighted down by so much baggage? When would the wings of freedom sprout strong enough to carry me away?

And thus time passed as I struggled to unlearn my upbringing. I tried to suppress these teaching while raising my own children. I succeeded in some ways and failed in many others.

I now grow old knowing that what I was taught is as wrong today as it was back then.

I now grow old allowing myself to be the person I always was, from the beginning.

I now grow old and have to account to no one but myself and those I love.

I now grow old learning to forgive myself and to humbly ask for forgiveness from those I have hurt.

I now grow old understanding that to fully demonstrate love to others, I must first have learned to love and accept myself.

I now grow old endeavoring to live a better, more authentic life.

I now grow old realizing I have been reborn as my true self, loving art and music, being gentle and caring, crying when I want to cry, wearing what I want to wear, loving black and white and all the colors in between, and understanding that being different is not something to be hidden or ashamed of…

And this alone has warmed my once young, cold heart.❤️

No pain, no gain

Still holds true

For biceps and exes

To name just a few

How does it feel

When pain leaves the heart?

A weight off your shoulders,

A race ‘bout to start?

But pain is evidence of life

And why should you be spared?

I know it’s easier to go numb

Than feeling lonely, feeling scared

But let pain come and let it go

For only growth comes after

And transformation can begin

When bitter tears turn into laughter

I am a work in progress

Orphan baby that time stole

As I figure out my role

Though sometime just a hot mess

I try to find my true self

Racing time against its toll

Challenging my self control

While maintaining mental health

The haters and the lovers

Inspire my will to thrive

And my desire to stay alive

Lest I dive under the covers

So, in stepping out of bed

I take steps toward my goal

Like a newborn baby foal

To live life outside my head