Passage

 Passage

I found myself

trapped in a struggle between

happiness and depression

caught in mirk and mud

searching for a way out

praying my stuckness will get shifted

Bricks are my weapons

Breaking through glass houses

holding me within safe spaces

Foghorn is my light

to navigate through the blinding mist

of white blackness

Paint peeling plastic oar

drags my boat threatening to leak

upon dormant water

Lake calling

Blast baying

Glass shattering

Releases me from my self-imposed muddle

Forcing me to choose a 

New trail, a

New attitude, a

New aura

Prompting a limitless drive to overcome

Pushing boundaries released from a delicate bursting bubble

Progressing through my meandering

Got to have faith in myself

to accept the challenge

of building upon the cascading bricks

of breaking through the fog

accepting the call in the dark

to guide me

in the direction of peace

allowing the rudder of life to

right my path

Discovering the dirt supporting my stride

to give me the fortitude

to release my stickiness

Forging forth not to the end of my rope

But to confidently trust each stepping stone

Brings me closer to self-respect

Aiding a fulfillment of grace

Breath released gives relief of pent up anguish

Producing calmness

Encouraging confidence

Reminding me

I am willing

I am strong

I am loved

Leticia Garcia Bradford

© January 2017

Tangerine

 The morning of tangerines 

rises with the color 

of sunrise in late fall

Reddish-orange orbs

Families ripening collectively 

on a single branch

Dressed in green foliage

Upon the heavily laden tree 

Light rises in my heart

My heart is light 

Full of life’s happiness 

Joy love heightens 

Catching smart and sweet citrus

Rooted in my soul 

 

Months of solitude 

Solo globe gracing the lengthy 

Varnished wooden ingrained dresser

Passing as a television stand

A quartet of leaves dried 

holding fast to

Thinner than a pencil offshoot 

Soft glimmering peel of the juicy fruit 

Replaced by a pumpkin gourd 

Resembling the spent life 

Past maturity of 

The aged tangerine 

Solidifies a marked time of growth 

From beneath the soil 

Rising towards the heights

Filled with joy love

Of the spent life

Orange as the evening sun

 

Really?

 Am I 

Am I 

Am I 

the only person who ends up ripping the cereal box closure 

that now will never close properly. 

Am I the only one who then spills the cereal all over the floor 

Am I the only one who then spills milk on the floor

my mother says 

my brother says 

my sister says 

don’t cry over spilt milk 

Today I am crying 

because that was 

the last of the milk

Our Future is Now

Here I am at home eating chocolate to deal with the anxiety of a nation in distress 

Outside my home. 

In the neighborhood Where I live

Garbage 

I mean heaps of garbage 

I mean an abandoned shopping cart 

filled with detritus 

I mean a suitcase 

contents spilled out on the sidewalk 

Again eating chocolate because I don’t know what I can do

I am disabled

In a wheelchair I don’t know what to do

Call someone?

Who?

Will they care?

The homeless will always be there outside my building 

I think I’m safe

The day Alex was killed across the country 

I cried in the dark waiting for my transport which was over an hour late because the driver got caught behind protesters.

I felt vulnerable. 

I felt unsafe 

I felt abandoned 

I just wanted to get home. 

Who knew a National Tragedy would affect me in California?

I am a disabled woman in a wheelchair 

I wanted to be home and safe

WAS I?

(Damn! Where’s my chocolate?)

Elusive Poem

The need to write a poem

put it in context 

what does my heart feel? 

beats over and over again 

I try my hardest

still at a standstill 

every day 

every morning 

every afternoon 

every evening 

Every night 

I struggle to write my poems

but here goes using 

voice recognition application 

on my iPhone

Do I remember? 

I have the beginning of a poem 

on my phone most of the time 

I forget 

but today 

my anguish in writing 

this poem

this poem NETS this poem.

Mission Peak

A childhood memory

Shroud of Mission Peak A distant stalwart seen across my childhood city Reminds me I am home //My home// My school home Third grade, Geography lesson Curved hills/jagged sharp mountains Mrs. Hall what about Mission Peak Another lesson: Earthquakes //Another lesson Earthquakes// Earthquakes here years ago Decades centuries ages Earth’s shaking caused land to slide Forming Mission Peak //Mission Peak land I love// Lake I love, Lake Elizabeth A prominent vista, beyond hills of my youth Mission Peak Seen from paddle boat Like a light house standing guard //Standing guard// Dad standing guard, over our toddler girl At edge of lake feeding ducks/ train sighted by my little ones Running across green expanse Greeting slow moving train Background gaze of Mission Peak //Gazing towards Mission Peak// Gazing upon Mission Peak Covered by occasional snow Feel chill of infrequent dusting 

In schoolyard where I once scraped my knee My daughters share same view Of stalwart snowy pointed peak Now one of their own,

A childhood memory

Lizzie Borden

Lizzie Borden took an ax

Gave her mother forty wacks

When she saw what she had done

Gave her father forty-one

One

Two 

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven 

Eight

It’s in the air

It’s in my dreams

It’s all that I am breathing

Gasping

Choking

Blood blood

Everywhere 

Who is that screaming?

It’s in the air

It’s in my dreams

Deep animal guttural sounds

Jumping rope jumping rope

Off the tallest skyscraper

Into the air I breeze

It’s a bird

It’s a plane

It’s Lizzie Borden

Hurry kids inside inside

Don’t look in her evil eyes

I hear that every day as I cross the street

Onto my parent’s grave where I grieve

Who could have been so cruel?

Who could have been so obscene?

Blood blood everywhere

Why is this happening to me?

You can breeze through most of the day

Not anymore for me

I wish I was a bird in a tree

Chirping to my heart’s content

Now I am only hunted

The evil one

The spinster

She’s out of her mind

I went to school I am educated

I was the school marm

Harm my pupil I would never do

It’s a bird

It’s a plane

Where am I going?

Going to the capital

Going to the zoo

Going to the cuckoo’s house

Lizzie Borden took a rope

When she found she couldn’t cope

Everyone’s fears have come to rest

Lizzie Borden has flown west

 

Leticia Garcia Bradford

© July 2010