Oscar Wilde once said
never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary
and maybe that’s why I love you so hard
because you look at me and see
all the oddities I bring to the table
the crystals and whistles and bells of a pagan soul
dancing through an ordinary life
you’ve never made me pretend to be normal around you
never hushed my wild ramblings
for fear of someone else hearing them
never told me to sit still and behave
I love you for treating me like
the queen of fools and faeries
rather than a mere mortal mistress
Tag: Dandelion Girls
appears in “Dandelion Girls and Other Mythical Creatures”
holy water [poem]
I cry at night sometimes
these silent and hollow tears
more like condensation trailing down my cheeks
than actual pain
I’ve always loved the rain
the way everything feels
fresh and new after a storm
so I never fight the urge to cry
I embrace it
turn my face to the grey clouds of my tense insides
and let the tears fall as they may
unhindered by my open heart
I believe in drowning in myself
rather than dying of thirst
while standing in my own ocean
I know when to baptize myself
dip under those cool waters and start over again
wash away what no longer serves me
I turn my face to the pillow and cry
until the waves of my heartbeat
stop their violent crashing to the shore
until I can breathe again
inhaling the dampness into my lungs
like incense smoke and prayer
the truth is
tears have always been holy water
and I am truly blessed
survivors [poem]
NOTE: this poem is dedicated to Christina Grimmie, as well as the victims of the Pulse shooting in Orlando.
it hurts to know I can’t fix this
can’t unmurder the victims of yet another
act of senseless violence
can’t unbreak the hearts of their families
as the news hits
I can’t pray away this pain
can’t light enough candles to guide their lost souls
without burning the whole world down in the process
I feel small and helpless
trapped in a vicious cycle of deaths and heartache
I can’t fix this
but I can open my heart to the hurt
open my arms to embrace the survivors
because we’re all the survivors here
instead of joining the debate on
why and how and who could’ve prevented this
I focus on what I know best
love
I send out love to those who need it
to those who are hurt the most
the way I see it
the world can always use more love
myth and memory [poem]
we were my favorite myth
love
better than the story of the sun
giving his light to the moon each night
just so she could shine
better than the story of the descent Persephone makes
each year to return to her husband’s side
Hades embracing her light
life in the dark richness of the earth
better than the story of our universe bursting into being
we were an epic the likes of
the Iliad and the Odyssey
a wild tale
an adventure we survived
but not all myths come to a happy ending
love
and so I tell our tale with a bitter taste in my mouth
I write the history of us in hieroglyphs
nearly illegible
turn you into an ancient mythology
just a story
a study in some far flung culture
rather than a piece of my life
I kill your godlike effect on me by taking away your power
shrinking your role until
you become a symbol
a trope to learn from and work around
not a god
just a memory
be a star [poem]
I wonder how the stars feel
knowing their burning brilliance
is nothing but a twinkling light long after they’re dead
I wonder if they burn brighter
hot with the knowledge of their fading presence
I wonder if they care
or if their cores continuously consume base elements
with no concern for the ripples of their future burnouts
stars are powerful masses of destruction
and life giving heat
and that is why I need you to be a star
you who have been told all the usual platitudes
that it will get better
that this darkness you’re facing is only temporary
and death is too permanent to be a solution
that someone loves you
I know the words mean nothing on the bad days
echoing in the cavernous chamber of your empty heart
so forget the promises of gentle words
instead
be willing to burn brighter
in the face of your own darkness
to force change
convert the elements of your suicidal depression
into new building blocks
let the heat of your refusal to fade out
bring life back into your uninhabitable heart
and don’t worry about how your light
may or may not matter tomorrow
because it matters today
just be a star
be brilliant
and burn
rest in peace [poem]
as memorial day arrived again
I found myself thinking about a shrine
for those who’ve passed
the soldiers who served my country
with everything they had
and at first
I thought it’d be easy
call in the Valkyries
to help those warriors make it to Valhalla
like they deserve
but then my mind grew discomforted
because the ones that came home too broken to keep going
the ones lost to suicide and drug abuse
they’re still warriors
still heroes
but I don’t think they’d be welcomed in Valhalla
their weaknesses too big
their deaths too empty of honor or glory
it’s not fair
and I could never
honor those who’ve died in the heat of battle
without remembering those who died to its after effects
those who couldn’t free themselves from the claws
of violence and bloodshed
long enough to return to normal life
I couldn’t dishonor their sacrifice like that
so I had to scrap that plan
shrugged my shoulders and let go of the idea
of Valkyries watching over my altar space
instead
I’ll stick to Persephone
sweet spring maiden turned queen of the dead
she would be fair
would weigh souls for all their years
not just their final moments
I can pray to her
on behalf of those who’ve served my country
and know she’d be able to help them all
not just the soldiers killed in action
but the lost souls who we failed to bring back in one piece
she could help them all find rest
in peace
loving a Gemini [poem]
she’s your two for one special
your buy one get one free on personalities
you see
she’s a Gemini
born split into pieces before she even got started
she doesn’t have an attitude
she has attitudes
plural
if she likes you
you’ll know it by the raunchy jokes she shares
the way her laughter comes out at full volume
consider yourself one of the Chosen Ones
lucky enough to see her fun side
if she doesn’t like you
you might never know it
she’ll be that introverted girl
who hardly ever joins the conversation
the supposedly quiet one
if she loves you
you’ll notice the way she willingly makes exceptions for you
allows you to piss her off
without tearing you a new one
giving you a free pass when you’re being an ass
but if she hates you
the absence of proof will be the only sign
she doesn’t have time to waste hating you herself
so instead
she will let you sink into self loathing at her persistent silence
her cold shoulder the subtle frost of late spring
seemingly harmless
but amazingly deadly to new growing things
consider this a friendly warning
you may never know where you stand with her
I hope you like surprises
the cup filler and the water [poem]
I’m an Aquarius
the sign of the water bearer
this means that I will often
pour you a tall glass of common sense
when the world around you feels like it’s gone crazy
but sometimes I will spill out facts at you
until you’re drowning in them
this is not an exaggeration
I will tell you everything in an effort to tell you nothing
this is a defense mechanism
this is how I hide in plain sight
having an open book face
while penning my deepest secrets in invisible ink
across my own skin
you will know so much about me
and yet so little of me
that I will appear an enigma
a wild card woman always full of surprises
I will flow over you
a waterfall of an experience
both cleansing and overwhelming in my wake
this is what it’s like to befriend both the cup filler
and the water itself
three brothers [poem]
when we rose to power
my brothers and I made a pact
we agreed to split the realms three ways
each taking on one for our own
we were young gods still
so we kept it simple
we drew straws
not really thinking it through
Zeus got the skies
king of us all
he also got a constant zap of static
from everything he touched
I watched him learn how to hide the cringe
but no one
not even a god
can stop the telltale crackle of electricity
Poseidon had it harder
his watery kingdom a true change
from all he’d ever known
sometimes he forgets how to breathe air
and I know for a fact
his skin dries viciously when exposed to the sun
my brothers will tell you I had it worst
I became the ruler of the dead
but had to become like them to do it
I’m a little dead inside
a little cold and grey and unmoving
it doesn’t bother me
but then again
nothing bothers a ghost
Medusa [poem]
they say
I ran to Artemis when men with
stone faces and hard hearts
came chasing after me
to take things I had not offered
her advice to me was simple
stop running woman-child
turn your face to them
they say you make them hard
make it true
make them harder
make their blood turn stone with your righteous fury
so I did
stories spread
gossip’s nothing new
suddenly I was a monster with snakes for hair
like they’d never seen dreadlocks before
like I couldn’t be dangerous without
venomous creatures crawling from my skin
but hey
it kept people away most of the time
kept me safe from their wandering eyes
I didn’t do anything to anyone innocent
men who came to me
they knew what they were coming for
they came to take
came to take my life
came to take my body
came to take my power
I didn’t let them
I have a garden full of statues
in honor of their ignorance
a thank you note to my high priestess [poem]
we met in a coffee shop
a circle of pagan people gathered
to make new friends and chance connections
you looked past my bright eyed innocence
to see the potential priestess beneath my still waters
I looked up to you
priestess and teacher
my guide into a wider world of magic
than I’d ever known on my own
you earned my respect
spun lessons into my life
while providing a safety net in case I fell
you became a friend too
when my heart grew love so big it birthed a tsunami
you showed me your ocean
taught me how to measure the waves
and how to avoid drowning in them
in the years of magic and mayhem that we call life
you lifted me up
told the gods I was worthy
even when I wasn’t sure it was completely true
when your life crumbled
like brittle sun-baked paper in your fingers
your survival showed me how to find purpose
how to grab life’s lessons with both hands
and shove them into place
until life returned to beautiful again
what I’m trying to say is
thank you
there are no words powerful enough
to truly explain my gratitude
for your presence in this
crazy ritual I call life
Persephone girl [poem]
I’m a Persephone girl
half spring maiden
half goddess of death
on long walks through the woods
I like to smell wildflowers and collect old bones
I’m always between
always half out of step with normal life
like I ate too many pomegranate seeds
and I don’t get to be normal until the hot season
the time when I bitch and moan and melt
with everybody else
I like being a shadow chaser
my heart held safe in the cool hands of Death
His darkness my shelter from too much living
depression’s mine too
here to remind me that each breath is a gift
I’ve chosen not to return unopened
and yet
my laughter is infectious and frequent
bubbling like youth’s spring from my lips
because this too is my life
eternally adorable
the smile of spring’s first blooms
and a promise of future fruits
blessed be this body [poem]
blessed be my sore feet
for holding me up through a long shift at work
blessed be my stiff knees
for allowing me to enjoy that three hour hike
even though it exhausted me
blessed be my jiggly ass
for making anything a good seat
blessed be my confused womb
for sometimes reminding me I’m a woman
and sometimes letting me forget
blessed be my stretchmarked belly
for being kind enough to accept
almost any form of fuel
blessed be my annoying boobs
for making me feel the good kind of curvy
when I bother to dress up girly
blessed be my naive heart
for remembering how to love again and again
even when I’m ready to wash my hands clean
of loving anyone else
blessed be my megaphone mouth
for getting my point across
without letting anyone talk over me
blessed be my blurry eyes
for all the stories they let me absorb every day
blessed be my scattered thoughts
for birthing poetry
and to do lists with equal enthusiasm
blessed be my well-worn body
for all the things I’m capable of doing
I am truly grateful for all my bits and pieces
the ones that work and the ones that don’t
this body is my body
and I am blessed
Larissa Lee 