Tag: empathy

Posted in love, poetry

Always and Forever

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Always and Forever I don’t know how I forgot about that book. I saw it in the window of a used bookstore last week, stumbling into childhood nostalgia as if jumping into a puddle, both feet all at once, splashed by flashes of of my mom cradling me in her arms, singing the made up melody to the song in that forgotten book. I’m amazed I learned to sleep without her hug, without her voice rocking me into dreams, without the comfort of a mother in the room down the hall, amazed I could wake without the gentle coaxing of her singing and the warmth of her arms holding me, assuring me that she’d keep me safe. Wake up Leanne, wake up Leanne, wake up, wake up, wake up, she’d sing, coaxing my eyes to open, teaching me through song how to fill a room with love, and bright eyed soak it up with the morning sun. I always felt ready for the day, nurtured by her hand in mine, fingers always and forever intertwined until the moment she knew she could let go, taking off the training wheels to my bicycle, and watch me ride alone. —Leanne Rebecca

I write this poem with extreme thanks for the blessed life that I’ve led, a carefree childhood and loving family. I recognize that Mother’s Day isn’t rainbows and butterflies for many people: mothers that have lost their children, children that have lost their mothers, broken families, reality. Even in my family, there’s an element of sadness on this day. My parents buried their first child when she was 16 months old. This is also the first Mother’s Day since my Grandma Genny died.

It’s easy to forget that many many emotions surround this day and where one family smiles another might cry. It’s important to empathize and take a moment to think about the true weight of this day. I find it allows me to appreciate what I have that much more. I’m beyond thankful to be filled with so much love.

I love you, Mom.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Privilege

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Privilege I licked my spoon in the pleasure of indulgence, treating my mom to a couple glasses of wine and two chocolate desserts, both split in commitment to forgetting about men. I ordered another glass and she laughed at my hesitance. This is what life’s for, she said, she said, a woman that owned one dress growing up, a dress her sister had sewn her.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Tragedy

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Tragedy Morning traffic dictated a lethargic pace. I tailgated the car in front of me as if burning grill marks on his bumper would increase the speed of moving, could decrease my anxiety— would I make it to work on time? I veered onto the exit ramp at the first opportunity, crossing a bit of the solid white, zipping around the line stopped on the highway, the other 9-5ers blinking at their windshields, sleepwalkers guzzling coffee and eating granola bars. The ramp was clear, a straight shot of open road to fly without impasse in the freedom of ignoring speed suggestions. I noticed something to my right before I hit the intersection: a dead deer, frozen and whole like a stuffed replica. I looked away to my left. Three black trash bags lined the shoulder.Sometimes routine can blind us from what’s happening around us, good or bad. Don’t forget to open your eyes. Write a poem about it if you can.

Happy Thursday!

–Leanne Rebecca

 

Posted in art, poetry, writing

My People

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

My people There’s a part of me in every one of them, split projections reflecting back so that if they stood in a circle a hologram of me would appear in the center. Each one carries a different trait, an elemental slice of who I am— the way she cowers behind her hands, diverting and accentuating the social awkwardness of interacting in public places; the way he relinquishes his soul to music, making sense of emotion through lyrics, expressing a mood in a song choice; the way she overthinks; the tempo that he sings; how she doubts whether she wore the right earrings; that he laughs at inappropriate pauses in conversation; her resilience evidenced in getting out of bed and trying again. They’re my people, friends so familiar we share tears, so close I see their faces in my mirror— without them I’d disappear.

I think it’s important to notate that the rhyme in the last  lines is completely unintentional! The last step in my writing process always involves reading the poem out loud (which probably gives people the impression I’m talking to myself, especially if I’m in a coffee shop or something). Anyway, I didn’t notice the rhyme until that moment and in utter honesty, I liked the individual lines too much to change it. Deal with it.

Happy Tuesday!

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Mirror

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Mirror

I love you Cameron. Happy snapchatting!

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Resilience

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Resilience

This poem is dedicated to my mom, Lori Ortbals. The title was her idea.

Thanks for stopping by and have a great Tuesday! Hit me up on Twitter or say hello in the comments below. 🙂

Posted in art, Josh Dun Poetry Corner, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Passed Down

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Passed DownCheck out the Josh Dun Poetry Corner archives and don’t forget to buy tickets to the next twenty one pilots show in your area!