Eclectic Childhood

Scares me to think of a world where people didn’t listen to their inner call,
Or weren’t brave enough to incorporate creativity into it all.

Would I be able to rock my head to Over the Hills and Far Away?
Or be brought to tears from Maya Angelou’s rendition of a woman’s sway?

Would I believe I could change the world and aim high,
If I never laid eyes on Sacred Water, Sacred Sky?

Would I know the importance of family and moment’s small,
If I didn’t hear King’s Highway beating through my childhood home’s drywall?

Would I understand I could make actual things with my hands,
If I hadn’t sewn beads onto felt and sat around tables with women talking about their big plans?

Would I dream as big as I could if I never heard my mother talk about writing her books?
Or if I never caught the glimpses of my grandpa’s encouraging looks?

If I never saw my dad’s place of gathering come to fruition,
Would my tenacity and drive still be on such a mission?

If I didn’t see the bravery of my brothers driving to new states and standing firm in their truths,
Would my heart still feel this sense of an evergreen youth?

If the sun never touched the clouds with it’s purples and golds,
Would I be courageous enough to touch this paper with the pen I hold?

If creativity and conversation weren’t pillars of my growing- up,
Would I even know where to start now, would I know how to fill my soul’s cup?

The people I’ve been surrounded with are brave in their every- day,
They show love, kindness, creativeness, and art,
And in turn, raised an imaginative, determined heart.

Not Yet

They said they’ve said it all,
Then why do I still hear the call?

Why is my pen drawn to this paper?
Why am I trying to make some kind of poetic sense here?

Why do I wake up with a heart beating with words?
Why do I feel an inner pull to cause a compassionate, happy- stir?

It’s so easy to see we all have a light,
But half of us never switch it on, we continue walking in fright.

It’s so easy to see we are all family,
That we’re all miraculous drops, working together to create the powerful sea.

But not everyone sees it like I do,
And that’s why I continue to write to you.

I want you to see the beauty that you hold,
And how each day, Earth delivers you moments of gold.

I want you to know that you reside by your neighbor for a reason,
And though hard sometimes, life is filled with spectacular seasons.

Sometimes you’ve got it all figured out,
Other times you’re searching, aiming to cure the doubt.

You’re a legacy with each breath of air that fills your lungs,
You’re a song that must be sung.

So, maybe they’ve said it all, but I haven’t said what I need to just yet
I’ll be here writing to you, until we get going to where we need to get.

Laugh- Lines

We go through page after page in the book called life,
So many hats to try on along the way; sister, daughter, friend, and wife.

Dreamer, lover, student, drinker, artist, teacher, and person leading with love,
We come to realize, we’re co-authoring these chapters with a power above.

Our choices lead to the life we obtain,
We are our own keepers, we have the key that unlocks all our chains.

And there’s something more clear to me each day,
I want to relish in the details of life’s winding way.

When I’m 77 and look upon my husband’s face,
I want to know the cause of every single laugh- line and those tender moments that can’t be replaced.

I want to remember the moments that caused every single grey hair,
And how our hearts kept pumping, even when if felt like there was no more air.

I want to recognize where every single scar on my children came from,
And feel proud that we never sought to dull life’s brilliance or make ourselves numb.

I want to be able to sit in our rocking chairs at sunset and travel amongst our memories,
A well- lived life is agings finest remedy.

With my husband’s hand in mine,
We can travel all the places we’ve already been by that time.

We can watch our children rolling around in Hawaiian sand,
Or witness the wonder in their eyes as the plane grounds in far- off lands.

Our hearts can warm up when we think of the help that we offered along the way,
And can shed tears of joy knowing we were there for our children’s most important days.

Our adrenaline will pump when we think of all the times we pushed ourselves for the better,
We’ll be able to breathe deeply knowing we strung our life with love- letters.

Our curiosity will be evergreen, thinking of times of the miraculous,
Our faith unwavering, thinking of all the times we just led with trust.

Our sense of awe will still be blown away by the glow of our family and friends,
Our sense of resilience still growing stronger, realizing there’s only one true end.

Our souls will be as full as ever with love and wonder and unspeakable kindness from something greater than us,
Our minds still churning with plenty of the world and dreams still left for us to discuss.

Yes, our lives will be led in such a way,
That just thinking of it on our porch will carry us away.

We’ll be so wrapped in love and memories that kiss us on our forehead daily,
A contentment in our bones, that feels like Over the Rainbow played on the ukulele.


Half of us are oceans,
Half of us are skies,
All inter- connected, we come to realize.

The Ying to my Yang,
The firework to my bang.

The joy to my bliss,
The lips to my kiss.

The balance to my step,
The secret to my kept.

The heart to my love,
The wings to my dove.

The hot to my coffee,
The soul to my be.

The beauty to my view,
The me to my you.

The melody to my song,
The lesson to my wrong.

The bee to my honey,
The laughter to my funny.

The water to my waves,
The satisfaction to my crave.

The stars to my night,
The forgive to my fight.

The sun to my burn,
The patience to my turn.

The flower to my root,
The print to my boot.

The moon to my tide,
The shadow to my hide.

The one to my other.
The Earth to my mother.

How deeply we need each other,
Sisters and sisters and brothers and brothers.


Even hard days don’t seem as hard when you’ve got a love to cling to,
This world’s got nothing on two hearts beating true.

Out the door to a space of work during the day,
But that’s all make- believe and child’s play.

We suit up and go to make good in the world,
But that isn’t our sanctuary or where our freedoms unfurl.

No, in real- life we’re the king and queen of this castle,
In our kingdom spilled milk isn’t ever a hassle.

Chalkboard walls and made up tunes,
Singing at tables and month-long birthday balloons.

Weekend adventures to bask in the air of cute towns,
Every day adventures to find the best coffee around.

Paint stains on white furniture,
Loud laughs and silly faces feeling ever so secure.

Books tucked into every cranny and nook,
Woken up from cuddles and kisses and the most eager looks.

Night- time tea and quiet conversations in the dark,
This sweet-spot of life we’re in is one my soul has earmarked.

Cookies for breakfast ever- so- often,
The most rigid corners of my heart have completely softened.

This life we’re leading inside the walls of three one three nine is the only thing real,
I race back to this space and these people just to get another feel.