Spices

When your eyes shut tight,
Can you taste the bitter salt
in the water
of your tears
lingering,
down your face?

Can you smell the aroma
of peppers,
roasting on the grill?
Does it burn your nostrils?
You don't want it to stop though
because
it feels
So good.

Can you hear
the laughter that
Exuberates from that girl's voice?
Even in itself you can tell she longs
for love.
But why?
She is love.
She searches for something
she does not need when
it's right in
Her Heart.

Can you feel joy
and happiness from the children?
They have a vibe like no other.
They live care-free,
no worries,
but eventually it will all
spiral down the
Tub like their dirty water.

When you open your eyes,
do you see the place,
the same strange place,
Where you don't belong?
The one you
know,
but don't want to?
The place we call home?

For Megan (Observation Piece)

           There is a candle in her heart: a flame that grows bigger and bigger within time – one that never dies, even when rain pours from the sky. She reminds me of late summer nights, the kind where it begins to get cold, and all you want to do is just nestle up in a blanket and admire the stars. And as you admire them, you think to yourself, how did these diamonds end up scattered in our universe? It’s those types of questions that she reminds me of; those that make you think for long hours, and still never have an answer. We are separated by distance, but together by heart.

I long for the nights when we just stay up and talk about our childhood and summer and boys. But sometimes, sometimes I dread those nights. I don’t dread them because I am not in love, nor because I achieve little excitement, but I dread them because she cries. I dread them because every time she sheds a tear, I die a little on the inside. She is the toughest girl I will ever know. Yet I know her to be a sweet girl who doesn’t deserve all the hate towards her. But day after day after day, people feel the need to crush what little hope and happiness she has. In a sense, her life reminds me of a washing machine, one set to spin cycle. She waits the moment when the cool water will drown out her soft cries and pleas. She doesn’t try to fight it though; she doesn’t try to save herself because she knows it’s going to happen again and again and again. She has learned to adjust to its cruel and hurtful ways. She has learned that you can't fight fire with fire – it will only ignite it.

Despite the fact all the terrible things that flies her way, she is a child to me. She has yet to explore the world and discover its secrets. She is trapped inside of this wall she has built. It’s made of stone and marble and love and the color brown and salt from the ocean. But I know within time she will discover the path that awaits her.  She knows it is there, but she is afraid to cross it, to see what lurks on the other side. I will help her, guide her. In a way I feel I already have. I have taken her under my wing and she is blossoming into something spectacular.

When she wakes up in the morning, I wonder if she realizes how special she is and how graceful she loves another. She is my best friend, she is my hero.