Poems

How unfortunate it is

That the deeper I go

And the closer I get to God

My love for people grows

 

And I see myself in all 

And their mishaps

 

Like a true mirror showing me all that there is 

To hate

        and to love

            and to hate

 

I call this by its name

            unfortunate

Because the more I see 

The oneness in all 

The more I am severed 

As ‘other’ by most

 

Like a mother with arms wide open 

To a teenager who does not understand

                    I wait

                    And am made different

                    Occasionally called names

 

And there I stand with two options before me

To either shrink back

As a teenager in disguise 

Or stay with tired arms waiting for embrace

 

To accept both love and war

 

And fight to not let the heart grow weary

And armor herself