Nothing (A Poem)

They say,
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,”
and knowing I can choose,
I’d certainly rather venture,
even if it means I lose.
See, it so happens that
I know a little something
about nothing,
that sad default,
that frustrating non-finish line.
Nothing:
What I say when I can’t find the words.
Nothing:
What I do when the world is too much.
Nothing:
What changes when I don’t.
Nothing,
safe though it may be,
just isn’t enough
for me.

Don’t Bet Against Me (A Poem)

When I was born
six weeks too early, too tiny,
and before I even had a name,
they took bets on whether I’d make it.

I made it.

I’ve always made it,
every moment of every day,
even when I shouldn’t have,
when I should have failed,
I’ve made it.
And I’ve made it good.

So I tell people:
Don’t bet against me.
Underestimate me and
just wait and see
what happens.

Because I made it, and I’ve made it, and I’ll make it.

I am my own hero,
my own knight in shining armor,
my own deus ex machina,
my own miracle.
I am unstoppable,
unflappable,
unembarrassed,
unashamed,
and unconcerned with those who’d doubt me.

I made it.

Even when it’s impossible (nothing’s impossible),
when it’s too dark to see (there’s always light),
when the game seems lost (life’s not a game):

Whatever you do,
don’t bet against me.

Fragments (A Monday Poem)

Of course the big picture is beautiful.

It’s made up of a million little miracles –
small victories
and delicate pieces.

Beautiful all on their own,
these fundamental fragments,
and meaningful
not because they are part of something larger.
Just because they are.