Poetry Collection by Michelle Freya

THESE DAYS ARE DARK BUT WITH SUCH BRIGHT LIGHT

During these days

and all of the days before us:

youth is a wax candle

glowing the in the grand hall of now - darkness

bouncing chorused light off of the crowded walls

of inspiration and will to climb

the ceiling (hope) is ever so high

a challenge of sight to the human eye that sobs

tears of transition collected in open jars of change

and although hatred taps its wicked finger hard upon the window glass wide

we will rise together from this room

just as long as we keep looking up

LEFT IN COMPANY

Take me or leave me

you do not leave me alone

I’ll be left with the girl that I am

and becoming

hair windswept wild, eyes wide

that’s where I always roam

The inability to refuse who you are

is gasping for air

begin to breathe

THE END OF APRIL

I nearly forgot that I was a poet

until these dying petals

crinkled their edges around my eyelashes

and these windows

let the sun spill in

as if the sun

had owned them all along

until the pain that was cutting

and not even a single strike

became a melody throughout the house again

and I cooked for my mother

because love at all

is the very reason to love

even when love is sickening

it is sickening

and yet I will still throw my body

to the wrench of the illness

just to build an enticing balcony

from these broken tools

I AM A WOMAN! I AM A GIRL!

I am a woman!

I am a girl!

I am a child.

I am a wise old lady

who knows everything

there is to know

and she sits in a wooden chair by a sun-drenched window

I am a window.

and she peers

at the child that is me

desperately trying to

learn it all

the old lady

smiles

Inspired