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?)