Poetry
I wrote my first poem when I was 10 years old, my first book at 15, and my second at 20. Personal reasons drove me to write and publish these books - they are more of a legacy in the name of a loved person I lost - holding stories about the world, stories that I have witnessed, and those that I have experienced.
I hope you like them, and if you do, I would love to hear from you.
To Live in Your Dreams
In the middle of August, a storm of great strength comes,
the wind whistles, the birds warn,
yet the old man hums;
sitting across his garden with trees bellowing,
his face serene with its lines mellowing,
he fears
not a thing, not what the storm shall bring.
Staring into the puddle of water beside,
he sees the reflection of roses,
and then his beautiful wife;
and all in the world,
the wind, the whirl,
ceases to be seen,
for the ghost love of his life
is now more than just a dream.
She smiles at him, waves run across her face from the rain,
but she is just as he remembered, she hasn’t aged a day,
thunder cackles above him, winds blow faster,
birds fly away even farther;
but all in the world, the wind, the whirl,
has ceased to be seen,
so, of what importance is reality,
when he can live in his dreams?
Half a Woman II
Since I was a child, I was my father’s little girl;
A baby with the cutest smile, with a lovely twirl.
Grew up in his arms, his right shoulder was my nest;
He told me I was so lovable, I called him my loveliest.
October 1, 2003: the day I entered his life.
He was complete, he loved me more than did his wife.
Over the years our friendship bloomed,
We stuck together while the evils loomed
over our heads, but we were strong:
together, we were one, correcting the wrong.
He called me his best friend and I know it is true;
Because, Papa, I feel quite lonely without you.
Only 15 years he gave to me and now he has gone.
I am weak, I am lost, I know I need to be strong.
He loved me when I was a girl, and when I was a baby:
As I transform into a woman, without him I feel crazy.
Like a lock and a key, you & I were in perfect symmetry.
When you left, you took a part of me, leaving me incomplete.
I was whole with you; you really were my best friend:
But you died, you are gone, now I am only half a woman.
