"You are" poems

When I started this blog, I shared my thoughts about writing more than I shared my actual writing. It was like a little pep talk that helped me create.

But lately, I've been skipping the preamble and sharing more of my tiny pieces with you. Today I'm going to do both.

You might remember last year when I lost my notebook full of all my writing on my way to Bangkok. I never did find it. I even checked in all the airports on my return trip.

But I didn't lose everything.

There was one poem I remembered. It was teeny tiny—only 15 words. I don't remember the original circumstances or what I was thinking about when I wrote it.

You are a crazed buffalo

and I—

the gleam in your eyes

before you charge

I'm not even sure why I remembered this piece out of all the others. But as I accepted the fact that all my writing and work notes were gone, this piece began circling my mind.

I repeated it over and over and it took up space. So I wrote it down again. And created an image of this tiny poem.

And then I wrote another just like it. It became a little lullaby I'd sing to myself to start my writing sessions each morning. Sometimes all I'd write were more of these little "you are" poems.

You are the path

fading in the moonlight

and I—

the sole of your shoes

as I retrace our steps

You are the late afternoon sun

heavy and golden

and I—

the lizard

lapping you up like honey

You are today

and yesterday and tomorrow

and I—

the never-ending waves at midnight

all the same

all different

Sometimes a phrase in one of these poems would inspire a longer piece. Sometimes I'd write one or two, then move on. Even today, when I start second-guessing myself, I start with this phrase and see what comes out.

Sometimes I picture someone specific when I write in second person. Many times, I use this point of view to speak to the divine creative spirit. Other times, I use it to talk to myself, sorting through ideas of my deep subconscious in a way that more direct language can't.

It frees me because it doesn't have to make sense. What does it mean to be a gleam in a buffalo's eye? What does it mean to be yesterday? Or a Saturday? What if whatever you wrote made perfect sense and no sense at all?