Into the Looking Glass

Into the Looking Glass

Just beyond the glass 

A land I have never seen

A place of fairy wings and mermaid tails

And hills of verdant green

Hand to hand I see myself

Reflected in these dreams

Step through the mirror

Creases in reality’s seams

Pop! I’ve arrived

On the other side.

What is it that I see?

A magical fairy boat ride.

I grab the rough railing

And board the steady boat.

Sitting on a tree stump stool,

I wait to cross the moat.

Suddenly, a rainbow appears,

Streaking across the emerald sky.

Along with a Leprechaun

Wearing a clover tie.

“Come with me,

My earthbound Dearie

See the fairyland sights

Which are neither dank nor dreary.”

” Lessons three you shall learn

On the way to me pot of Gold

And in the end you shall receive

Riches untold”

And then:

Three tiny fairies land

Twittering in language unknown

Verily no bigger than a hand.

“The iridescent sprites

Have not a care

They love life

And give death not a stare”

“As shall you

Love your life

Look past hardships

And not embrace strife”

The boat started moving

Down the sparkling ravine

Looking around I gazed in awe

At many magical sights unseen.

Cerulean trees

Line the banks of blue

And fragrant flowers 

Bring bees of a different hue

My ears! My ears!

What do they hear?

A melodious song

Look- mermaids draw near!

Their beauty is stunning

From iridescent scales to sapphire hair.

Holding golden mirrors

And giving quite a stare.

The Leprechaun said,

“Look close into the mirror

Beauty you will see not

But a vision of horror.”

“Just as your own beauty fades

Lean not onto it’s ethereal charm

Love your inner self

And you shall not come to harm.”

We left the sirens behind,

Approaching a sulphurous smell.

At the sight of dragon,

Of fear I had to quell.

Bright Flames, 

the color of the sun

Heated the rocks

Causing them to run.

Says the Leprechaun:

“Be not afraid of the strong.

Embrace their strength,

And you can do no wrong.”

And then the boat landed

In a mushroom dell.

As I stepped off,

I nearly fell.

Says the Leprechaun,

“There be me pot of Gold.

Look inside, look inside

If you be so bold.”

Slowly, step by tenuous step,

I climbed up the hill.

As I reached the cauldron,

My heart failed to be still.

Riches I want!

What would I find?

Gold bullions and rubies?

Leave my poor life behind.

Peer inside

What do I behold?

A shiny little rock

Surely not gold.

I grasp the rock

And my world spins

Suddenly, I’m back at the mirror

Where everything begins 

I look into the Looking Glass.

What do I see?

A beautiful golden soul

Staring back at me.

America Distressed

My America, the Eagle Distressed

To even contemplate that we, as a nation, are akin to an Eagle— one with the Freedom of the skies– to have the time, the Liberty, to speak about this noble bird in any manner with total impunity, without fear of mortal retribution or imprisonment, is absolutely the epitome of said Liberty, our Constitution eternal.

Yet, these very Freedoms that we have been given, and the idle time for such contemplation, has placed our nation in distress. Our nation, the majestic Eagle, appears to be tearing itself apart.

The left wing bites at the right wing,
right wing pulls off feathers from the left wing,
Until not enough remain and our Eagle nation flounders

Meanwhile, vultures gather hungrily,
waiting, watching the sky for discarded wingbits–
hoping that they’ll get more than pieces.

Where the vultures lurk, we do not wish to go.
We do not wish to be ripped apart and subjugated to Theocratic rule,
intestines bared and bones scattered.

I wish that we all would look past our own feathers,
if only for a minute,
and relish the heights that we have gained.

I pray, I meditate on the words set forth in our grand contract: “[no person shall] be deprived of life, liberty or property without due process.” So, think again if you desire to pluck the vane from the feather on the other wing, even if it seems to not belong with your own. “ALL persons born or naturalized in the United states… are citizens of the United States.”

Shall we climb higher or go to the vultures domain?
Shall our words lift the other wing, even with respectful dissent?
Or Shall we continue to pluck out that which offends until there are only vanes of the same colour?
Can we afford to ignore that we indeed, The Left Wing and Right wing,
are essential if our great nation is to stay in Flight?

I’ll Call You Later

Yesterday, you, my American friends

Stood up for our rights to this land
We worked hand in hand
To fight and disperse ISIS
Together, we established safety and prosperity
Today, with a tweet, you left
And in your place our enemies rushed in
Killing our journalists, melting our children
Chaos and destruction
Fear and annihilation
Tomorrow, we must leave this land.
This land that we fought so hard to keep.
Where are you now my friend
when we need you the most?
Why have you forsaken us?

Depression’s Shadow

National Poetry Month Day 10:

Depression’s Shadow

I am nothing.

I stand alone.

I grasp for hope.

Tears fill my heart’s ocean.

An endless slumber awaits.

This is life.

Self loathing,
So much hate.

Just make it stop.

Why should I care?

Why should I breathe?

Why should I live?

My soul,
It is in want of meaning.

Crying out,
Desperate for the end.

Yet, a shadow lurks
Beyond the last tear,
Beyond day’s old pillow impressions.

A shadow,
A glimmer
Where hope yet lies
Cast when the light of eyes
Had yet to dim.

Maybe tomorrow I shall grasp it
And make it a part of me.
But for tonight,
Tonight I shall close my eyes
And wait;
Wait for the nothing.

Spring Healing

Spring Healing
Wounds, inflicted by self and by society
seethe just beneath my skin
What may heal my unseen scars?
Chemical concoctions and psychiatric remedies?
Na, those only touch the surface skein
True healing comes from words arranged on a page
Prose and poetry, songs from the soul
From capturing light paintings
transforming the natural world
Into wondrous canvas hangings
From breathing the night air
slow and steady walking the neighborhood
enjoying the tiny pinpoints of light
From living, and living well
despite my many illnesses
From this may healing commence

Season of the Haikus

Sadness overwhelms
Dripping from branches of my heart
Winter remains strong
Exuberance is
Bright sunshine upon my brow
Spring brings the thaw
Anxious energy
A vine growing on my spine
Summer’s hot like fire
My mental illness
Becomes smaller as time grows
Autumn’s acceptance


Her lips soft, a flower
I drink full of her chalice
Thighs enjoined
Hands clasped
Fingers caress
Breath captured
Souls raptured in Esctacy
His lips hard, a rock
I drink full of his power
Thighs enjoined
Hands embraced
Fingers clench
Breath shared
Souls entwined in flight
Her love. His love.
I drink full of the divine
Hearts beat fast
No doubts
No shame
No fear
Love, just love

Dear Father

Dear Father
Oh Father,
I see you pour that drink, your chosen elixir
Just one more you say,
as your hands tremble on the bottle.
Military special, pure amber whiskey
But this is no self love
It’s self destruction
enabled with love
Do you remember when
you forgot the world
So enraptured in your drink
You forgot to pay the mortgage?
Every time I rode with you,
I looked for the opaque 7up glass
Filled with iced amber liquid
and prayed police would look the other way.
I never remember a time
when your glass wasn’t full.
Oh, you’d promise an empty glass
innumerable times.
Do you remember when
you ran into the coast guard
And my 17 yr old self
had to pick you up from jail?
Then it was mandatory AA meetings
and a pledge to cut back,
but that only lasted
for just a little while.
Even when the cancer consumed your body
The cravings demanded answer
So one of us would
hold the glass to your lips.
I don’t know what was worse for you
The cancer or the addiction
Both all consuming
and deadly
Oh Father,
Even though you’re gone,
I hope you know that you were loved
despite your horrible illness
You were never your addiction
Even though it was a part of you,
We remember the steadfast person,
And will forever cherish those memories

B52, Baker Act

B 52, Baker Act

4:00pm, ambulance ride
The order of white knights saves the day

4:30pm, hospital waiting room
I stare at my lacerated wrists in a daze

8:00pm, evaluation
The doctor determines that I’m a danger to myself.

8:30pm, admission
Psych techs escort me beyond a locked door

9:00pm, sleep
I fall into a deep slumber, the first in three nights

7:00am, nurse turns on light
Time for vitals

7:30am, get dressed
Don’t wear any underwire or strings

8:00am, breakfast
grits and eggs yet again

8:30am, medication
I swallow the pills like a good patient.

9:00am, music therapy
Let’s sing along to, “I’ll survive,” and other songs.

9:30am, meet with doctor
Affirm the retreat of hallucinations

11:00am, psychotherapy
Analyze meditation techniques; what a snooze.

12:00pm, lunch
Escape the unit for a trip to the cafeteria

12:30pm, lunch meds
More meds to keep the anxiety at bay

1:00pm, art therapy
Today we are covering journals

2:00pm, psychotherapy (again)
I get to radically accept that my mental illness is real

3:00pm, rest time
It’s shift change on the ward

3:30pm, read time
How many reader’s digest can I read?

4:00pm, outside time
Run around in the courtyard like a chicken with its head cut off

4:30pm, meet with social worker
Figure out a date of release, hope it’s soon.

5:00pm, dinner time
They really feed us well. Chicken or salad?

5:30, dinner meds
Cause one must take some meds with food

6:00pm, psychotherapy group (for the third time)
DBT strategies for emotional regulation, cause I’m disregulated.

6:30pm, visitation
Always hoped for, but never expected. 2 visitors today.

8:00pm, snack time
popcorn and yogurt, oh my!

8:30pm, night meds
Cause some meds make you sleepy.

9:00pm, tv time
All good patients gather around the screen

9:30pm, bed time
Time to stare at the curtains and make devious plans

10:00pm, pacing time
Cause you don’t want to carry out those plans. Lap 1, lap 2…lap100

11:00pm, sleep
Another night on the unit, how many more, who can say?


I see phantoms where there are none.
“You must be demon possessed,”
The pastor said.
“Let’s consult an exorcist”
I told my boss I had bipolar disorder.
“She must be unreliable,”
He thought.
And didn’t renew my contract.
The stranger pointed
“She must be dangerous,”
She said
As if I carried a gun or knife.
From inside myself, a tiny voice:
“I feel bad so I must be bad.”
Overwhelmed with shame,
I hid my differentness.
Stigma, a virus spreading
across America
The antidote: Empathy, compassion.
Your voice can spread the cure.