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Posts Tagged ‘anxiety’

For When the Fall Feels Inevitable

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on February 25, 2025| 6 Comments »




The             space
between        this
moment        and
the                next
stretches        like
a         tightrope—
let                    my
love                  for
you                   be
not                  net,
but                          wings.

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Anxiety

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on May 17, 2024| 7 Comments »


 
 
Like a cat that finds
the lap of the person
who doesn’t want it,
anxiety keeps nudging me,
leaping up to my lap,
curling deeper in,
and no matter how
many times I push it
away, anxiety returns,
kneads into the parts
of me that are soft,
as if it knows it could be
so comfortable here
if only I’d stop
all this flailing.

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When I Told My Teacher About My Dream

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on May 24, 2022| 8 Comments »


The heart doesn’t have perfectionism.
            —Joi Sharp


All night I dreamt
I was teaching a class
I’d never prepared for.
I’d never even seen
the textbook,
didn’t have a roster
for the students,
and couldn’t understand
how I’d arrived in this place
where I seemed destined
to let everyone down.
Even the chalk wouldn’t work
on the chalkboard.
All night I fought
an inner monster,
the one that says,
You are not enough.
All night it chased me
through the channels
of my fears, those
synaptic paths
well-traveled for years.
Oh world, let me be
the student.
Let me be one
who learns to live
through the heart,
who loves with confidence.
Let me study the ways
love meets the monster—
not with a fight
but with indifference.

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But I Write this Poem, So We Know it’s Not Gone

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on January 6, 2013| 2 Comments »

While worrying
about tomorrow,
I make soup.
Sliver the onion,
thin white crescent moons,
and then peel the carrots,
slice them on the bias,
sauté, add dashi, add miso, add scallion,
and boil the udon,
till the whole house
smells of the rich golden broth
and that sharp little mouth
that ceaselessly sings
what if, what if,
is so busy observing
the tang of the ginger—
so pungent, so silver—
it (almost) forgets to insist.

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