WingSpan Poetry Project


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But What If

But what if my heart is an ancient buried treasure chest waiting to be found under the sea?

What if my heart is hiding inside my psychosis?

What if my heart was a fallen fruit from the Tree of Life?

What if my heart had once been frozen in time and now it is a victim of global warming?

What if my heart was not the organ that kept my human form alive?

What if my heart was two sizes too small?

What if my heart was full of a galaxy of stars?

What if my heart led me along a hopscotch path to the place I was created?

What if my heart is not a fertile soil for new seed to be sown?

What if my heart was intended for a different body?

What if my heart, beating in time with my beloved’s, is the only meaning to my painful existence?

What if my heart is so broken and rebuilt with faulty repair materials that when my heart’s desire ended, so did I?

What if my heart is so reinforced with the difficulties life affords that I will purposefully choose to leave it on clearance aisles?

What if my heart cannot withstand the pain of my life as it is today?

What then, oh my Creator, why did you give my heart, soul and spirit a place to experience death, destruction and miserable, painful years of suffering!

What if my self built security wall was never compromised by the sound of my partner’s voice saying my  name?


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What if my heart …

What if my heart is a ticking time bomb
ready to explode without my lithium?

What if my heart could carry the weight
of the world and I fall off the face of the earth
into oblivion?

What if my heart skips a beat ten x’s over
I’d be dead at your feet

What if my heart could cleanse my thoughts
of you … you’re still there hidden in my heart

What if my heart could clench my steady
beats draining my life force?

What if my heart could reach out and touch you
Would you remember me?

What if my heart could pump my blood
into you as you’re wasting away

What if my heart were your life’s blood
beating to the sound of drums dancing

What if my heart could be yours
alone. If only time can tell.

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After Nancy Willard’s “Questions My Son Asked Me, Answers I Never Gave Him”

If I drop my tooth in the telephone, will it go through the wires and bite someone’s ears?
The tongue rests on the tooth and has the power to pierce someone’s heart.

If I stand on my head will the sleep in my eye roll up into my head?
If you think with your heart will the mouth voice your dreams?

What happens at the end of numbers?
Excess has overcome the need to keep count.

Do the years ever run out?
Only if pen and paper cease to exist

Do butterflies make noise?
They rejoice in freedom as they learn to fly fluttering their triumph of transformation

Are they part of our family?
Would you like them to be? You choose.

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Table made of pine wood

covered over by white chipped paint
I was once young
and my feet danced
to the beat of a different Native drum
She gathers sheets to drape
over the rectangular table
to hide pretend time so my
brothers wouldn’t make fun
or laugh at me.
I collect blankets
and soft pillows
She washes her dolls
with Johnson & Johnson baby bar soap
the smell lingers in the air
Table indoors or outdoors
that was my solitude, my solace
Cousins came to play
to waste the day exchanging
smiles, laughs and imaginary plays
This was a safe place
to hide away the day.