On Being April

Clandestine Writing







What’s in a name
that which we call a rose
Might only be
a dandelion in disguise
Ape Face
Opening buds of spring
April Fools
Bunnies and Springtime
Why are you a month
Were you born in April
<Yes I was born in April
The selfsame day
Shakespeare’s Birthday>
how dumb
Was your mother’s name February
<no, Ironically, June
but June after June Allison
the Actress
Not, you know, November>
what a stupid name

And sometimes teachers
can be
intentionally or not
undeniably cruel
in retrospect
Sometimes I wonder
if my bestie
who tagged me
with Ape
even liked me or not

For years it stung
kids, particularly, can be cruel
added epithets
for years
I lived for nothing
but the day
when I could change it

And I grew
to understand
and to understand
to rise to the challenge
April is
a treasure
starting anew
fresh cut grass
fresh perspective
fresh and cheeky

I step into my name
April Joy
I slide my arms
into short pink sleeves
of my name
of who I am
of who I have become
and take off
at a run
into my day
my life
my reality

Join me if you wish
Rose or dandelion
dandelion I chose
for you can find me
in the darndest
of places



********************** From the Prompt **********************************

posted 2.17.15
This week, write a poem about your name. When you were born, you were given a name before beginning to develop a sense of self. Have you grown into your name, or have you always resisted it? Knowing who you are today, where you’ve come from, and where you see yourself going, would you choose a different name for yourself?


Silence suffocates
Drowning out
all reason
I hear it
like a thousand million stars
at the idea
that i might accidentally
be enough
when everyone knows
enen the stars
the lack that there is
in me
and i sit
and i listen
and i know
how ludicrous it is
that i ever doubted
my insignificance



Do you hear
the silent screams
of all the dreams
being smothered in silence

cold white fear
fills the days
in marvelous ways
driving out all sanity

can you see
all of the pain
spiralling the drain
washed away by your words

do you even care
that what you say
leaches rainbows to gray
snow piles on tender heart

It’s not your job
to make me hurt
fill my nose with dirt
slice my heart in pieces

Do you even understand
that bones are broken by sticks and stones
but spirits are broken by words and tones
and what you say destroys me

Daughter Pride







I sit in your spaces
and listen to the silence
that fills the world
The creatures are with me
they feel the absence
as acutely
as anyone
Pride (and Courage Dog) sit with me
keeping vigil
through the dark
and the cold
we wait
for your return
You are there
doing the needful
taking care
of beautiful you
Etched in my heart
is the picture
through the window
of small pale
strong and frightened
you reached out
when the weight grew heavy
and clung to everything
in life that is good
with fear and pride
I tie the knots
in the rope
for you to climb out with

Unlikely Friends







Fear sinks its teeth in deeply
confusion and mistrust
of the unknown
and the unknowing
with fangs as sharp
as the scalpel-sharp words
some hers
some mine
I regret
the scars
that I may have left
on her heart.
unlikely friends
we two
different worlds
different decades
and yet
I find her
my friend
Motherly concern
mixed liberally with
the admiration
that I can not help but find.
Fear still ties
parts of her heart
but the laces are loosening
and the beauty
that lies within
creeps out to the light
like the sun
reflected from unblemished snow
I see her shine
and in the brilliance
a glimpse of the future