this is water.

let me be

“dear god,” she prayed,

“let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.

let me be gay;
let me be sad.
let me be cold;
let me be warm.
let me be hungry
have too much to eat. let me be

girls doing.

did you want to see me broken?

you may write me down in history
with your bitter, twisted lies,
you may tread me in the very dirt
but still, like dust,

i rise.

does my sassiness upset you?

why are you beset with gloom?
just ’cause i walk as if i have oil wells
pumping in my living room.

just like suns and like moons,
with the certainty of tides,
just like hopes springing high,

still i rise.

did you want to see me broken?

bowed head and lowered eyes?
shoulders falling down like teardrops,
weakened by my soulful cries?

does my sassiness upset you?

don’t take it so hard just cause i laugh [hah]
as if i got gold mines
diggin’ in my own back yard. did you want to see me broken?

blue elephants

when you’re a kid, you color with reckless abandon.

 // you color outside the lines.

// you color however you feel.

blue elephants,
purple trees,
red bears,
green oceans —

it’s all good.

as you get older, though, everyone tells you to stay inside the lines,

to color everything just like you see it.

you end up painting by numbers¹²³ —

whether you actually paint — or — whether you write — or — sing — or —
dance — or — act  — or — direct.

// i think you should create what you feel //

// create outside the lines //

i want to watch green oceans and red bears.
i’d love to listen to purple trees.
and i long to read blue elephants.