Two Poems

Fears and Follies 

Sometimes I am too small
out of sight
just
There, yet
hand not raised high enough
voice not quite loud enough
Little one
Dear heart from trying
Sure, keep on attempting
Pat on the head
no better than a slap on the wrist

Other times
I am so large
Crashing into furniture and walls
purple bruises saying
'you take up too much space'
My voice is too much, too frequent
My thoughts too wild
All of me - 
my clothes, movements, words - 
too bold
They say "different"
because it's the kinder form of "strange"

I want to be alright with just how I am
When I am quiet in a crowd
and giddy, silly, with a friend
Sometimes in the front
other times in the back
Mostly somewhere in the middle
and for that to be okay.




Tender Hope 

As a little girl
My mother read a book to me
in which one person described another 
saying,
"She has hands in the back of her heart."

I've always thought this was so beautiful
Someone who gives and serves quietly
Without need for recognition

I hope to be that person
And to be with that person.