I see you-
Long lost loves,
The preciousness of life;
Snapshots of moments-
Now, too long ago.
The more love lost,
heavier do they seem.
Grief sits neatly in them,
For this I am grateful-
Storage full of levity.
I fall in love over and over-
With labels and dates,
Mostly incorrect now…
I was never meant to be keeper of the boxes.
They gawk at me from the corner,
As they have more of my life,
My love inside of them-
My life turned tangible.
Stacking up precariously,
Carrying the love and weight-
Of long ago,
Bankers boxes; folding much-
Origami and cardboard cuts.

They hold my heart and soul,
Memories so near,
in a whiff – the boxes-
Take me back in years.
One small glance,
Transports me to the past.
Leaning on filing cabinets,
Organizing myself neatly.
Of bankers boxes and love,
weight of memories long ago-
weight of generations I didn’t know-
the love in those folds,
the love seen- that I didn’t know.

The more love lost-
The more bliss they own.
Containing my world,
The love that made me-
Stored in a container.
Love is in every fold,
Through every mislabeled decade,
You continue to hold.

I love your strength.
I love how you compartmentalize.
I love how there is one of you,
That’s always the right size-
For mistakes and memories,
For life and love lost,
Oh, Origami cardboard of old,

I love you, bankers boxes.

Face Everything And Rise-
Fuck Everything And Run.

January 31st,
Last of the month of this new year
I got the call I’d dreaded-
My baby brother was found dead.
He supported me in every way,
As of my fear-
It cannot flourish,
I’m again six weeks along
I’ve got souls and bodies to nourish.
I have grief to grieve and life to live
To tremble or stall has no place-

“One day at a time,”
Like it said on his hat,
The one he was wearing today when he breathed his last.
I must be ruthless I’m the face of fear-

I’m a wife yearning to be a mother
I’m a sister who just lost her brother.
I’m a daughter who still misses her mom.
I’m a mother to souls unborn,

And to the hope in my organs,
That I’ll be a mother,
That I’ll make it three trimesters along.
I’ll hold one of my children,
So I cannot dwell in fear,
I got the call…
I’ve got grief to grieve,
Life to live and give.
Souls and bodies to nourish,
So there is no time
Unless it’s needed,
No time for tears or fears,
Only hopeful courage.

I’ve got souls and bodies to nourish.
I have grief to grieve and life to live-
In me- fear may not flourish.

“One day at a time,”
Like it said on his hat,
The one he was wearing, when he breathed his last.
Face Everything And Rise,
Face the fear to become the light.

Thank you, my soul,

Thank you for getting through this moment, now. Thank you for everytime you said “I can’t do this anymore,” yet persisted.

Thank you for allowing yourself the time to let yourself truly rest. From finding your own way to stay in recovery, how to be at peace with yourself. How to not need approval from others. Thank you- for learning and working to remain to be grateful to be grateful.

Thank you for finally prioritizing your health and expressing weakness. That has turned to strength for you. Staying open minded has taught you how to be resilient. You are modeling clay for yourself.

Thank you for trying in your marriage, instead of leaving when it got hard. I know you have regrets about letting things continue, yet you did what you thought was right. I appreciate the way you let your love shift to pain and know what boundaries are. I also appreciate the way you can shift pain to love. You’re an alchemist. I admire that.

The way you overcome your phobia of the highway after all those car wrecks, the way you didn’t go back to using after you used, the way you got pregnant over and over slowly losing hope with each test with two pink lines. Thank you for making peace with your pain- for taking the best of all the people you’ve loved and lost and doing your best to emulate the admirable characteristics they had. Thank you, for staying malleable to yourself.

For learning to own and to be your own your space. For being brave enough to try everything you desire, so that you can pursue your passions. For not being a slave to fear. For becoming water, for touching my core and trying to swim into deeper waters. From the bottom of all that I am, the depths of my soul, thank you. I am eternally grateful that you didn’t give up on you.

Yours truly,
You.

To my young soul-

You didn’t know why-
You had a compulsion to lie.
You were born to sow chaos,
Then to watch from the side lines.

You didn’t know why-
You sat and read in the trees for hours…
Why you loved no one’s company,
As much as the magnolia flowers.

You didn’t know why-
You never felt like enough.

You didn’t know why-
You had a desire to bleed.
You didn’t know why-
Pain felt like a need.

You didn’t know why-
You were up all night.
Despite a handful of Tylenol P.M-
No fatigued mind in sight.

You didn’t know why-
All you could do to speak was to write.

You didn’t know why-
You were full of love and disdain.
You didn’t know why-
You just had to paint.

You didn’t know why-
Why you always dyed your hair,
Why you cried in the corner-
Why you threw that chair.

You didn’t know why-
You felt no love or care.
You were so out of control.
Unaware of what festered in your soul.

You didn’t know why-
You were the only human alive.
You didn’t know why-
You were born with a desire to die.

You didn’t know, why you didn’t need sleep-
You didn’t understand your dreams,
About being six feet deep.
You didn’t.

You didn’t know if you had an idea-
Or a disillusioned psychosis.
You didn’t understand you were still you,
If you accepted the diagnosis.

You didn’t know how to be-
You didn’t know why
Until finally you listened to the DSM 5.
You didn’t know how to not be defined.

You didn’t know about manic depression,
You didn’t know why you felt such desperation.
You didn’t know why- you didn’t know.
A bitter pill to swallow.

Now you know.
Yet you can’t leave it behind,
With a diagnosis you must make room,
Now you know.

Your mood is a disorder,
Yet it’s all you’ve ever known.
So swallow that pill in the hopes-
One day you may not need it anymore.

You’re perfectly whole,
Yet now you know.
Escaping not unscathed; only wiser.
You’re young and you’re old.

Now you know.
You’re my shoulder to lean on,
As the world is cruel.
Now you know, I didn’t know you.

How sacred it is to be able to think-
To be sentient and corporeal.
When your veins tingle;
visit roots in mind’s memorial.
Touch your feet upon the bare earth,
Yet be mindful of parking lots-
Glass or nails can hurt.

Open eyes to gaze at the sky-
Be bold enough to see,
To know you know nothing, yet you don’t need to know why.
Stop and smell the roses-
Or honey suckle, blackberry bushes too..

Come days end: only your soul knows;
When you lay down your head
When you reflect on the days end-
Is your heart heavier or did you lighten the load?

Did you live in love-
Exist outside of yourself?
Did you stop to smell the roses?
Through all sacred thoughts of the day,
How will they replay in minds memorial?

How sacred it is to have lungs;
To breathe in the ancient air.
Oxygen molecules pre-existing,
Your need for breath.
Did you stop to breathe in the universe?
Have you taken a moment to marvel and dance in the rain?

When your skin feels tight;
Breathing seems like a task,
When your veins tingle or bones ache;
Did you work to make peace with your pain?

How sacred it is to be able to reflect;
When you’re well and able,
Take a moment to see the ripples-
That you’ve started in your day-
Take that moment to protect,
Your own peace of mind.

When that door of opportunity closes
The gates that unlock;
Will unfold in your open eyes,
If you remember to stop and smell the roses.

How real and divine-
To be blessed with your very own mind.

-Hillary Rosenthal

I’m suddenly aware of frigid air;
A chill to my very core.
It’s only been a few months,
I miss you mom.
This is a cold I’ve never felt before,
Rising up behind me-
…. the air is compelling.
It shines, the air is in my sight.

Aunt Lisa, you taught me-
To see differently, to be different.
You two showed me the beauty of I…
Grandma, two decades since you were here.
I can feel your smile and smell Gardenia.
In your bed mom,
time itself stopped.
I cannot sit here much longer.
I scrub the bathtub,
I’ve always hated wet hair.
Yet I saw an orange strand or two,
I set them aside,
As the unfamiliar air continued to rise.
Rise above expectations-
Rise above the concept of perfection.
This air is so refreshing,
Cold breeze in a hot and muggy night.
I can feel the support,
A love more than unconditional.
Unbreakable, unshakeable.
An unfamiliar & unwavering support.
Personal- I feel the tears
They fall as I write,
So, as long as there’s fresh air,
I will continue to rise.

Mom, it’s been seventy days,
Since you took yourself away.
I feel my lost idols,
In my heart and around my neck.
Heaven sent pearls-
Of beauty and wisdom adorn me.
I watch the irredescent bubbles,
The heat of the water,
Contrast of cold air.
Mom I’ll honor your words,
I shan’t give into despair.

– Hillary Rosenthal

Even everything
is nothing until it is free-
Stability in insecurity.
Dependable: independent.

Exhausted: motivated-
Weakness mirrors strength.
Liberation & flexibility
strength is having no needs.

Resilience- divine
breaking silence,
power through pain.
Vulnerability- resplendent.

Humble: malleable
peace through pain.
Adaptability is key,
shedding of the ego.

Admitting the desire
to change and grow
asking for help;
while retaining pride in yourself.