i feel like flying high into the air…
i feel like soaring over the mountains and back again just because i can…
i feel like i’m torn between seeing the trees and seeing my love…
i feel like the world spins too slow in the summer and too fast in the winter…
i feel like life’s speeding toward my future faster than i ever imagined…
i feel like dancing until i pass out, then waking up and dancing again…
i feel like chanting the rune song into the night air…
i feel like spinning in circles, hand in hand with my sisters…
i feel like all those things…
but i can’t do them…
my wings are only in my mind…
my wings can’t take me places i haven’t been…
my heart has no decision to make, as i’ll see the trees for a time no matter what,
but i’ll return to my love…
my perception of time changes with my actions of the season…
my hopes and dreams aren’t so far off anymore…
my rhythm in my body doesn’t have that kind of stamina…
my spirit doesn’t know the rune song well enough to sing…
my sisters are far and wide, sprinkled across the earth…
i may not be able to do those things…
or maybe i can…
what are dreams for anyway?
Tag: Published
currently published and available in a book for purchase
werewolf troubles [poem]
they don’t like it when you growl
teeth glinting in the moonlight
they don’t like to be reminded of their place
because humans think themselves predator rather than prey
they don’t like being made to tremble
at the sound of a distant howl
they don’t like cowering in their homes after sunset
you don’t care what they like though
because they seem to like you just fine
when you walk in human skin
as if you’re safe to be around
just because the moon isn’t quite full
siren’s song [poem]
do you hear the insistent rhythm of my heartbeat drum
or the melody of my breath?
do you feel it crawling under your skin
like the ink of a new tattoo
a permanent mark in the making?
do you worry
wonder if this siren song is just a trap plainly seen
or a clever ruse to distract you?
do you see it?
everything you need is reflected
on the surface of the waters
waiting
for you to reach in and
succumb to the lure of the ocean
an underworld spirit [poem]
I’ve come to realize that I’m both
an old soul in a young body and
a new soul just learning how to be alive
meaning there are times
when the only people I relate to
are those with enough years and experience
to be my grandparents
sometimes I’m incredibly confused
by the choices my peers make
because nothing seems thought through at all
but other times
I’m exuberant with my joy for each moment
each breath a gasp of delight
cheeks aching with a permanent smile
or sometimes I don’t understand
why we can’t all just get along and be happy
it seems so simple
this is the life of an underworld spirit
forever teetering between wise and naive
true names [poem]
to know a name is to hold power
but true names are hard to learn
I mean
it’s like a child trying to understand physics
there are bits and pieces explainable in ways that
anyone could comprehend
but the bigger concepts are impossibly complex
so too is my true name
it’s more than just a sound passing through your lips
it’s the scent of rain after a long dry spell
the sepia tones cast over everything by sunglasses
the sharp bite of a lemon wedge
the relief of a well tucked blanket in winter
my true name is an experience
just like me
reincarnation [poem]
I was buried in the dry clay that is so much of Texas
my blood and bones decomposed into dirt
my last breath stirring dust into the air
I’ve never been so happy to die again
to give up a life in order to be reborn over
and over
this soul fueled by the cycle of change
I’ve passed away
left pieces of myself in every place I called home
because that’s what reincarnation requires
the letting go and
the starting over again
involuntary nomad [poem]
I’ve always claimed my early life as that of
an involuntary nomad
my home always a temporary shelter
between shifting points on a map
I thought I hated it
moving away and losing touch with friends
and never having anything permanent of my own
but now
I can’t help but wonder if it’s in my blood
to wander
to pull up my own roots
before they dig too deep into familiar soil
maybe it’s me
deciding not to stay
not to become a local
I almost did it
once
but even the comfort of
a chosen family of friends and
streets memorized like my own name
couldn’t keep me when times got tough
I ran to ancestral lands along the coast
and now we’ll see
if I’ve always been an itchy footed traveler
or if maybe I’ve just been working my way back home
*note: this poem used to include the word “gypsy” and has been updated due to the word’s status as a slur
trust darkness [poem]
the biggest lie I ever heard was that
evil disdains the light
the demons who I’ve crossed paths with
have always been blazing suns of laughter and sin
the devil himself was a beautiful angel
the morning star
this is why you have to trust shadows
those who exist because of
(and in spite of)
all the overwhelming light but are not a part of it
trust darkness to be real and honest
to hold silence as both a comfort and a terror
as needed
the light returns [poem]
the moon is full and I do nothing
smile up at Her face and find solace in the cycle
having depression is like being the moon
your emotions
a cycle of waxing and waning hope
when the moon is new and it’s too dark to see
you just have to remember
that the light returns
it always returns
moonflowers [poem]
we watch flowers bloom in the moonlight
and see the beauty in the shadows
healing is a candle
flickering against the dark recesses of your teacup
drink deeply and feel the warmth
blossom in your core
Overrated [poem]
Cut of love
are overrated.
I’m not just loved,
I’m often hated,
and yet the one
I hate to see
isn’t hate,
just damn pity.
Don’t wanna see
that in your eyes,
that I have fallen
and I can’t rise.
I’m not saying
that I’m jaded,
but maybe hope
is overrated…
Sick and Tired of Poetry [poem]
If I could redo yesterday
I’d do it all the same
only I’d make sure that you knew
you were the one to blame
I don’t want you to get over me
I don’t wanna be your test
I don’t want another lecture
from somebody who “knows best”
I’m not trying for forever
or even for a year
I just want someone there
to stem the flow of tears
I’m sick of all my free time
and sick of poor, lonely me
I’m tired of all this madness
sick and tired of poetry
The Wall [poem]
I face a wall
that stands so tall
with no cracks I can see.
I’ve tried so hard
and come so far
to find no door for me.
Please let me in
and don’t begin
to change what I must be.
I’d lose too much,
grow out of touch
with things that make me free.
Larissa Lee 