You sit on the couch with a lamp on
Writing a poem
Bananas on the coffee table
Are ripening.

You’re creative
Unique
Expressing yourself authentically
Resolute
You observe carefully
Sensing the world around you
You contain depth and wisdom
A counter to a mainstream thought process
Seeing details and complexities
You feel everything deeply
You write to make sense
Of the world around you
The bananas are ripe.

You feel inadequate
You harden your shell
The bananas are overripe.
You stop writing poetry
The bananas rot.
Fruit flies swarm
And colonize
How you feel about who you’ve become
In comparison to who you were

But then an opportunity appears
To revisit the past
When the bananas were beginning to ripen
To write a poem
To your inner child
Where you’re reminded of the little girl
Who was unique
Creative
Resolute
Who wrote to make sense of her world
And remember
That the inner child hasn’t been lost
These qualities still exist within her

A vinegar and dish soap trap
The fruit flies give out
Creativity
Uniqueness
Determination
Are coaxed out
And she is once again writing a poem

You’re a beach baby girl,
Who is somehow forever porcelain.
Seashells were your favorite,
Always researching about their origin.

You reside on your throne;
Stuffed animals as your subjects.
In your motorized carriage,
Listening to all the best 2000s club hits.

You’re a natural teacher’s pet,
With platinum blonde fur.
Carrying your Justice laptop bag—
Hot pink is always such an allure.

You love picking up bugs,
The feeling of moss under bare-feet,
The warmth of the sun,
And a juicy watermelon slice treat.

You’re a bright-eyed adrenaline junkie,
Basking in the lights of county fairs.
Funnel cakes and lemonade,
Towering ferris wheel scares.

You give drawings as gifts,
And obsess over Monster High dolls.
Playing games on Nintendo consoles,
And hanging posters on the walls.

You’re a secret keeping starlet,
Posing all soft and carefree.
You love the impact you make in the world,
And you love that you are me.

Dear Kelsey, I saw your tears,

In times of doubt and valid fears.

This letter is to show you how

Your tears have built what you have now.
They told you not to cry, to keep

Your tears for something more deep.

But still you cried, out of sight,

And used tears for your dreams’ delight.
Remember when you ran that race,

you went to the bathroom to have some space.
On the way back you were met with disdain,
You let their words fuel your pain.
A friend who turned her back so cold,

Her words, the sharpest, loudest bold.

Each bullet word, it pierced you through,

Yet stoic, strong, you never withdrew.
You took that hurt and raced ahead,

With lungs on fire, eyes seeing red.

You came in first, with pain as fuel,
Transforming hurt, your special tool.
Transmutation is your super power,

From tears, your strength blossoms like a flower.

Abuse, rejection, hate, and scorn,

All turned to love, a new you born.
What I love most about you is this,
You take pain and make happiness.
Your tears now form a mighty sea,

Of justice, love, and harmony.

You honor body, spirit whole,

An inspiration, from your heart and soul.
Fearless, towards your dreams you run,

With love, your journey’s just begun.

Authentic, true in all you do,

Forever, always, Kelsey, you.

Not a big deal, she said
Everybody does this she thought
But being creative is one of the biggest blessings
It means winning every school project
Escape with my aunt
Be proud of my accomplishments
The excitement of start to finish
The chocolate piano making music sing
The t-shirts of Percy Jackson fighting high in the sky
The valentines boxes impressing the judges
The special birthday cards for special people
The constant inspiration
The constant smiles
The constant love
The constant people
The constant showing off
Impressing the crowd

I love your steadfastness and wisdom.
The way you make eye contact.
The way you only perform for your most trusted people.
I love the way you are careful yet unguarded.

I love your cheetah print pants and your jelly shoes and your “belly shirt.”
I love your rectangle glasses and your platform flip-flops.
I love it when you direct neighborhood movies.
You have vision and passion that is spurred on by your silliness.

I love your unkempt eyebrows and unshaven legs.
I love the gap in your teeth and your frizzy hair.
I love that you don’t even know what I’m talking about.
You aren’t trying to define yourself. You just are.

My Sunshine, I know it’s been a while.
I hadn’t have the time to see you.
I hadn’t have the time to listen to you,
Or watch you play.

My Sunshine, you’ll still light up my world when I see you next.
You’ll laugh like the tinkling drops of a sunshower against my dry skin.
You’ll sing like the scissortails playing across the grass fields of my lonely home,
Or you’ll give me gifts of hopeful flowers when I can’t bear to keep on marching.

My Sunshine, there’s no telling when we’ll see each other, maybe never again,
But wait for me one more day, one more week, one more hour. I’ll see you someday.

To little Cher:

I loved you young.
I love you now.
And I’ll love you old.

Every single version that has brought me to where I am today.
Where I was yesterday.
Where I will be tomorrow.

I love you.

Your unapologetic way of being you.
Each version of you.

From the first word I spoke to the word I am re-learning now…

“No.”
The word is “no.”

It shaped me.
It made me.
And now it’s changing me…
reverting me back into who I was.

I am becoming more and more me than I’ve ever been.

Full circle.

I am me re-becoming me.
Being born again into myself.

Re-learning how I unlearned boundaries.

I said “no.”
Did you hear me?
No, I don’t want it.
No, I don’t like it.
No, I don’t approve.

I protected my own peace.
I drew a very straight line with my “no.”
With my decisiveness.

Somewhere along the way I started to say “yes.”
Yes, even when I didn’t want it.
Even when I didn’t like it.
Even when I didn’t approve.

I tried to keep the peace.
My line was blurred by indecision.

By keeping the peace for everyone else I broke my own.
I destroyed myself pleasing everyone else.

No.
it came around again,
full circle.

My first word that later on I forgot how to say.

Return to your childhood self.
Become the real you.
The you that you were before the world changed you.

And I have.
Thank you little me.

I’m 30 now and I’m learning to say it again.
It gets easier every time.

You find your inner peace again.

Thank you little Cher, for the wisdom you’ve brought back.

~ Older Cher

I Grew Up In An Opera

Silence polluted the apartment
like smoke from my father’s cigars.
My mother made rare appearances
due to lengthy bookings in darkened rooms.
My uncle the doctor gave me candy
when he visited her.
The Rabbi said I needed to be patient.
I was nine; what is patience?
Every night
my father drank 2 shots of rye and read the paper
before he went to her room.
Her room. The Prima.

When he came out, he never saw me
standing outside the door.

I wanted to talk to the wizard;
Dorothy had it easy.

************************************************

Hey Blondie:

you were and are
amazing. Firstborn
Amerikansky,
with a boy’s name
whose genes for so
happy you started growing
and developing and were
too “big” for your age
so you wore mom’s clothes
and still thought you were
cute as you pranced around
wearing nothing but an apron,
while your baby brother laughed
and your mother cried.
You didn’t bother changing
as time moved around you;
you didn’t see the point
and still don’t. That’s why
I can still wear crazy barrettes
and thrift store treasures
that get missed by the
greater good. I know
you’re in charge!
Thank you for staying close
during all the hard times.
I’m sure that’s why
I can still laugh
with the best of them
and think a blue sky
or a day of rain is just
marvelous.
Yo cutie: Continue
to rock on.

You are kind, almost to a fault, but I love that about you
You root for the small ones
There is never an insect that crosses your path who does not get moved to safety
You care, truly and deeply
And everyone can feel it
You are delicate as a tropical climate; it’s a miracle how you brave the storms that pass through your mind
Yet you remain hopeful, optimistic as sunshine
You are so wild, how you dance, sing, and scream
You feel so much, and you let it be seen
You carve out your place
because you know you belong
You are passionate as hell
you let us know what you want
I admire you so much, and my greatest regret
Is letting you be lost, letting myself forget
But I owe it to us now, and we both know it’s true
That I let myself, once again,
be you.

I like the way you changed your name whenever you felt like it, and that you decided the “k” in your first name was lowercase even though it wasn’t that way on your birth certificate.

I like how brutally honest you were, even to your own detriment- when your kindergarten teacher told you she was going to report your bad behavior to your mom when she came to pick you up, you reminded her at the end of the day so she wouldn’t forget.

I like that you were kind to people- you used your own money to buy Easter baskets for your neighbors and wrote thank you letters to all of your teachers each year.

I like that whenever someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you said “a lifeguard” because you liked being by the water and wanted to be able to save people.

I like the way you wrote a short story, complete with a table of contents, publishing info, and acknowledgement, about how much you hated chickens and gave it to your first grade teacher as a gift.

I like the way you experimented with “fashion,” whether that was your mom’s old skirts or tying a scarf around your waist. I wish I could be more like you; you were always true to yourself and didn’t care what anyone else thought.

I like that you didn’t notice you were poor- you wore taped-up shoes to school with pride, and while your classmates went on vacations and to summer camp, you went to work with mom and spent your days relishing the AC and free Wifi, and to you that was the best thing in the world.

I like that you were able to take refuge in your own mind. I remember when you were at the playground, you must have been about 5, and a young man asked you what you were thinking about. You said, “I’m thinking my favorite thoughts.”

You didn’t tell him that you were born with your favorite thoughts, but you added to them over time.

That they stayed in the back of your brain and when you needed them you unrolled them like a tape measure, grabbing each one until they ran out.

That you needed your favorite thoughts, because your rich inner world meant you didn’t always do a great job of expressing yourself on the outside, so the other kids shied away from you and called you weird.

But when you accessed your favorite thoughts, the outside world didn’t matter .

When you were in your own world, you were at peace.

Define child play? A child who is lost in the world having a crazy imagination. Reflecting back on the younger years when we were carefree. We were young, wild, and free. Thankful for the memories like a broken record playing the same, old song. Bittersweet memories, now part of my broken, rearranged heart. But life has changed me and I know I have changed. I wish I knew then what I know now. Through the times I have grown. I am filled with regret but, my heart still beats. In this life, regrets are just lessons we’ve arranged. Lost in the past, with every mistake. We were young and dumb. Clueless as to who we wanted to be. I want to go back to when I was young when I was a kid. I don’t blame you for taking the easy way out. I just thought I could do without thinking about the future. I remember when I was younger we were so cheap and shaped. It must’ve seemed like yesterday. How time flies by. Still remember the thrill and the thrill of the ride. I still feel the joy, even though we’ve rearranged. I remember how I used to laugh and joke.

I can’t forget the good times I had in the past. Drawing as a child, playing hide and seek, flying planes in the park, going to carnivals etc. It was so much fun and liberating.
All these memories, I’m celebrating.
I was not ashamed of who I was and who I am now. I didn’t think that I could ever have the strength to stand alone and let it go
I’ve learned my lesson, regret’s just a dead-end road. I’m chasing dreams, leaving the past behind to explode. Now I finally see the road that lead me to this road. This is the life I chose. No matter where I go the wind blows
I found my voice, no longer afraid to expose.
Now I’m free, my true self I gladly disclose.

Hello little one.
You think you don’t know me, but if you saw me, you would recognize me, although you wouldn’t know why. You can be skeptical, and untrusting but it is not your nature. There are people around your who are not well. It’s not their fault and they love you. And they will sometimes say the wrong thing. So please, take a minute to read my words.
You have a life ahead for which you are well suited. Things are not always easy; you have the gift of seeing everyone in their best light. I love that about you because people feel safe with you. Make sure you always see yourself in the same amazing light. You are important too. You crave the safety of being heard, understood, and loved. Not everyone will understand you and that is okay, it’s a lot to ask. Sweetest heart, they can still love you.
Little one, you have the eye of an artist. You want to share the beauty you see with everyone. Do it. Tell the story of your picture, don’t be afraid to draw, there is no such thing as a mistake. It is okay to start over. Don’t let them tell you that you have no talent. You have a spirit that no person can dominate so don’t let the negative comments live in your head. It’s just as easy to toss them in the trash.
Little one your words have meaning and power. Use them in any way you can. Your notes make people laugh, your letters cleanse your soul and bring clarity. Even when speaking fails you, the pen in your hand will not. Put it to paper and bring your light to the page. You have magic in your manor. You have purity of soul; you have the innocence that is inner beauty. It will draw people to you. Stay gentle, stay true to yourself. It is of you to accept others as they are. You know that each is on their own path. Their presence will ebb and flow with your own in the rhythm of life.
Little one, your body is strong and beautiful. It was crafted especially for you. Enjoy moving and dancing! It is good to be upside down! You will fall, you won’t break. If you can think it, you can do it. Your brain, not your body, is your limit. Listen to the wisdom of your body when it wants to move, to stretch, to rest. You don’t have to eat if you are not hungry. Your body will tell you when, and what. I love that you already have that knowledge, and that you are so happy in your skin.
The things that bring you so much joy are in your life to stay. Your dogs, your horses, your art. The love you have for nature and all things outside. You stay grounded and connected to God using all your senses, alone or in concert. You are naturally good at the things it takes others a lifetime to learn. You have the gift of being able to help others see beauty in the same way that you do. Colors, and sounds light and shadow all dance in a symphony of sensation. It is yours to capture in the moment and share. Do it. You are love, and compassion, you are fury and peace, you are the cacophony and the silence. There is power in your words and peace in your touch. You are all things in one package. You do need friends, always. You desire a partner. The closest people in your life should complement and challenge you. There is no such thing as love that intentionally inflicts pain. Please, please remember that.
Little one, you are amazing, talented, and free. Trust yourself, see the beauty around you. If you trip, pretend you are flying. And live each day as if it is the best day ever.

Dear Kaela,

My sweet child that lives within me forever, I hope you forgive me when I forget you’re still with me. Time has aged my body, but hasn’t yet ever weakened your spirit. The one that burns love into my heart even when the world tries to say it is too bright. The only way to live is to put out the fire! The smoke will only hurt your eyes! I know it is only a lie. How could I ever give up what I love the most about you? What fills my memories and thoughts still, time and time again? In my heart, I will always remember once I was you, a child, who lived in her imagination.

You built worlds of magic and impossibilities and shouldered grief and sorrow into beautiful daydreams. What great times you had too, finding dreams of the world. To see the stories in your mind’s eye. Every book and movie you could never look away from until the story was finished. Stories turned inspiration for your own, spending hours dreaming before you were even asleep.

I still read the words you wrote all that time ago, diaries upon diaries that fill my nightstand in every home I’ve ever lived in. The world wanted you to feel alone, but how could you? With a pen and pencil, you opened portals to the realities of characters that would never leave you. Created with an imagination that always kept you company, an imagination that you cleverly snuck into the real world. Through dolls and play pretend your stories were as real as the hands that held them. Remember how you organized your bookshelf? Just like your favorite movie, The Secret World of Arrietty, you created space and pathways for the little people to walk through. You left treats and trinkets for them to borrow forever.

Never alone did you feel when you knew the world held more than the eyes could see. Never unloved will you feel when I see you’re still with me. I love you again and again as I write, seeing your eyes peek through mine. You’re showing me that the same world of magic and impossibilities will never leave me. My eyes were never harmed by your smoke. My sight is only gifted by its path, a path to the worlds you’ve created, to the heavens, and beyond. All only exist by your fire. You give me strength to keep the imagination alive, in a world where make-believe is only just that. I give you love to keep you safe, in a world that tells me to give you away. Never will I, my sweet child, never will I give my imagination away.