i have fallen in love with the sound of people living.
sitting on a bench outside the train stop
listening to the sound of laughter and chirping birds floating across the wind
coming from children playing soccer with their dad.
simple yet beautiful.

i turn to my friend and smile.
and she says
"i love the sound of people living."
and we laugh bc. i had said the exact same thing yesterday
and boy isn't it so simple yet beautiful.

the tracks begin to shake with the warning of a coming train
and the laughing and birds begin to fade away
yet it does not cease.
and my friend and i go on living
exploring new places,
trying new food,
seeing new views outside my train window.

simple yet beautiful
living
in this complicated world of ours.
don't forget to stop and listen to it.

$10

why do i get attacked for saying
no
to your seemingly innocent caresses on my arm
as you congratulate me on "great service?"

your $10 tip will not buy my consent.

when i tell you i am uncomfortable
you will only laugh
and lift your hands up in the air
as if they will erase the shivers left on my skin.

when i do not laugh back
you will become hostile
throwing words at my face
meant to make me bleed.

you do not realize your hostility only proves your guiltiness.

i am resilient
i will persist
i will say no

your $10 will not buy me.

make me brave

he smelt like a thrift store.
buildings whizzed by as his head leaned against the window.
music played through his coca cola headphones, dug up from a cereal box promising a surprise,
only later realizing nothing is as good as promised.

(except for Jesus) i whispered.

his eyelashes were fluttering-open and close-and i wondered what he was dreaming about.
(are we dreaming about the same things?) i asked.

his face was young, yet his eyes held years only made possible through pain and suffering.
our eyes were so similar.
(you're not alone) cried my heart.

we watched the same world pass all around us as we drove by, and i found myself wondering if our lives were all that different.
after all, Christ died for us both, didn't he?
(tell him!) i screamed.
but i didn't

instead, i watched as he got off the bus, left only to guess who he might be.
left only to hope that someday there might be someone braver than i.
(or that you may become brave) i thought.

Lord, make me brave.

headlights

driving home from work
and i'm tired
so so tired
my heart is heavy and i feel like i've been crying for hours.
it was only five minutes.

but the headlights,
hundreds of them blinding me,
are each holding a person with feelings,
stories,
lives,
i knowing nothing about.

how small am i?
who am i to think i am so important?
when my life is only a grain of sand in this vast sea
of headlights
shining back at me.

(sometimes it overwhelms me just how many people i pass and all the stories i will never know. but guys, to JESUS, i am so much more than a headlight. and so are you. )

flowers on a rainy day

i told myself i wouldn't fall in love as i sat across from you in the coffee shop.
you'd ordered one of those foamy caramel drinks.
i, an iced tea.
you smiled and gave me a hug.
it was warm and sweet.
and we sat down, both just content with each other's smiles and the background music of old couples laughing and coffee being made.

you told me about your adventures, and the kids you so badly wanted to help, and what makes a culture beautiful.
i watched the way your hands moved and your eyes sparkled as you talked about what you were passionate about,
and how you would lean forward as i spoke about where i hoped my life would go, and how pineapples were my favorite fruit, and how i loved flowers on a rainy day,
as if they were the most interesting things you had ever heard.

and as we left, i reminded myself
   don't fall in love.
but you walked me out to my car and gave me a hug goodbye,
and i knew it was already too late.

my professor told me lies

i entered your classroom with dreamy eyes and ready hands.
my soul was full of stories just waiting to be scribbled down,
TRUE stories just wanting to be let out.

but you, my professor, you told me lies.

as i sat there quietly in front of twenty other people, you told me that this is how
my story
HER story
would sound better.
how it should be realistic,
should be real.
because "statistics" say and "how many girls choose that method?" and "make this poem more REALISTIC."

but were you there when SHE grabbed that weapon?
did you discover HER red blood staining the carpet?
when HER family and HER friends saw HER white face laying in that casket, did you hold THEIR tears in your hand?

REALISTIC YOU SAY?

i gave you realistic,
you wanted a lie.

i won't tell lies.

what are we doing?

it's a beautiful thing, how we've been blessed with lungs allowing us to breath in the fresh air, and legs that climb mountains, and a voice that can fill an entire canyon with its echo.

and it's a beautiful thing that when we hear the crying echoes of the lost, when we see those who can no longer climb any higher, when we watch someone struggle for breath, that we don't have to sit idly by.

because God gave us those lungs
God gave us our legs
God gave us a voice.

what are we doing about that?

stolen tears

"you don't have to feel guilty, it's just a natural part of life, what you did."
but i did feel guilty,
i do feel guilty.
because everywhere you read about the heartbroken girls, spirits crushed by cruel boys.
but then, what does that make me?
i am not heartbroken. i am not cruel. i'm just a little lost.
is that okay?

"no" a voice whispers.
because you saw his face as tears poured down your cheeks.
shedding tears as if he should understand. as if he should pity you.
but he walked away from the scene of the crime, tears stollen from him.
those tears should've been his.

and the guilt comes flooding back.
because maybe i am cruel.
after all, stealing tears and making them my own,
using them against the wronged,
is there a worser crime?

(a poem for all the girls who've been there too. because sometimes it's not the boys who are the heartbreakers. sometimes people don't mean to be cruel. sometimes those tears are genuine.)

across the globe

i had this dream about you the other night.
you came to my work after a long hard day. I had texted you saying how much i missed you.
you gave me yellow flowers and played with my hair and we danced in the parking lot to one of our favorite songs.
as i twirled under the street lights i thought there was no possible way i'd ever feel more in love with you than in that moment.

i woke up with a text from you. "officially landed!" it read.
i knew that even though there'd be no more slow dancing, hand holding, and flower giving, as we lived across the globe from each other,
i'd still always find you when i closed my eyes.
and i know that just as you'd found me, i'd find you.
slowing wrapping you in an embrace, making you promise not to let me go.
"i won't" you'd whisper, and you too would wake up,
missing me.