Traces

Sketches,

Light lines loosely filling in the edges

Of truths we think we see around ourselves,

Rough words penciled in,

Crossed out, changed, and rearranged,

To capture shades of where our wonder delves.

 

We feel out threads of life and loss

And listen to the wisdom they impart.

Do you see them, where they cross –

Traces of a greater truth at heart?

 

I'm excited to share that I've finished putting together a new book of poetry - "Traces of Wonder" is available now on Amazon! It includes the poems I've been sharing here over the past couple of years, as well as others that I haven't shared before. Over the next few weeks, I plan to offer up some details on the book's themes and different sections, but for now I'll share the first poem in the book, which I think provides a brief introduction.

New Stories to Tell

The stories we’re told

Uphold the values society views

As cues to behaviors acceptable, suitable,

Beautiful for its functioning,

But sanctioning all we’re sold

And scolding the one who attempts to infuse

A new scenario into the fold

Is bold with hubris, deceiving,

Believing we’ve nothing to still figure out,

No doubt in the pre-rendered mold.

So shoulder the burden, create, and show

Unknown-before roads, which force us to grow.

 

This poem is about the danger of becoming complacent and overly comfortable with how society functions. There are certainly many elements that are good, but I think it's always important to keep in mind that we remain far from perfect, and that voices calling for change may often have something of value to say. We shouldn't dismiss these voices outright, just because they convey ideas that might be drastically different from the dominant narrative. We should think about them critically, question why things are the way they are, and consider what better ways might be possible.

Stressful Things

Stressful things, like tightened strings,

Tie my stomach up in knots,

Hunch my shoulders, bent like boulders

Poised to tumble down, and clots

Of thought accrue like hardened glue,

Inflexible as concrete cots,

Yet new wonder blossoms under

Blooming sky – let fly those stressful spots.

 

A few weeks ago, there were some difficult discussions happening at work, which have since been resolved - but in the moment, they felt pretty intense. At the end of that week, on Saturday morning, I went outside for a walk, like I often do. I felt the warm sun on my back and the light breeze on my face, and to some degree, the stress melted away. That's the idea this poem is trying to convey,