bundled bright and bold
packaged lettering spread across
pages in the history of my life,
partly compiled of travels to unpaved lands
those that share fruit and saddle meat,
composed of a love that rarely occurs
the kind that leaves those unknowing
wishing for their pages, wishing to be a part
of a story written in between the lips of a kiss.
My life and who I am,
the wandering gypsy, the conservative,
the girl that boils laughter heard in loud rooms,
yet cries for broken hearts and unmet appointments.
Quiero todo, the glory, the failures,
the survival of a strength made of faith,
made from red clay of this earth,
by my God that loved me regardless of my
unpredictability, laughed when I fell,
bruised and bleeding, He bandaged my worst wounds
reminded me of His steadfast love.
Quiero todo, the family, the mess, the madness
of chasing dreams, of teaching another the way, the
only way I have found for myself,
how I opened the doors of my soul,
with life and love and the uncovering of truth,
the fields of Kansas the plastic found in California,
the meaning of holding hands,
the knowledge that pain brings healing,
the solution of tying one’s shoes
Quiero todo, tied in a bow, put beneath a tree,
cared for and unopened until time,
asks for my story.
(I wrote this poem about three years ago. It has been on my mind lately and I wanted to share it again.)