Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Grace in the moments

I savor small bites of happiness,
leaving some for other days.
Days unfolding with grace,
there are those moments undefined
the kind that flow through my hands
like running water.
Those are the moments
I remember at 4 o'clock  
in the morning 
when I can't sleep
and you embrace me
in your half sleep
our bodies forming a crescent moon.
The days sometimes escape me,
hours playing hide and seek
but the moments
leave me dazzled and spent.
Glorious they stand on their own
two feet.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Armenian Genocide -100 Years

Coal black sky,
awakens repressed memories.
Whispers of angels silenced.
You are not forgotten,
the moon watched 
while humanity looked away,
one hundred years of denial.
I stood beside you as a boy,
and as a man I carry you in my heart.
Your kind but dark eyes,
pieced my consciousness with
stories of your plight,
living in a cave,
marching in the desert,
eating weeds and plants.
You were a baby boy orphaned,
grief held your hand.
You were too young to remember
your mother's love
your mother's embrace.
The emptiness,
and the sadness lingered.
The oppressors sought to destroy,
they sought deportation,
The oppressors wished
to erase you
and our bloodline.
One hundred years of denial,
echo like whispers,
reverberate from the earth
of those that perished.
You survived
to flourish
you survived 
to tell your story
the darkness always in the shadows
 of each day.
I remember.
your words are not forgotten,
I retell my children of those dark days,
of their legacy,
of survival rich with
honor of your life.
I stood beside you as a child,
as a man I carry you in my heart.

This is dedicated to my husband and his grandpa, a survivor of the Armenian Genocide. This is dedicated to all the grandchildren and children of the survivors. We must never forget the atrocities committed.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The beauty that is life

The leaf bathes
in the morning light,
floating with grace and beauty.
The geese
welcomed new life today.
The trees whispered 
of spring as I walked by.
At dawn I listened
to him breathing.
The moment magnified
by it's simplicity,
by the truth
of the beauty that life is.
He is the one
the dog followed home,
he kept him and made him his own,
protected and loved him
to the end.
He is the son that held his mother
as she shook with chemo
and life.
He is the one
that delights in a screeching reel
and the cat that follows him to the lake.
He is the one that feeds the squirrels
and thinks to buy a cup of joe
for the crossing guard.
He is the one with fire
in his veins.
He is the one that holds me
when the day is dark
and I feel empty.
He looks into my eyes
and sees my soul.
He is the one.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

My beloved and the wind

The light penetrated through the clouds,
I watched fireflies entangled in a dance.
The blue Jay jeered attempting
to distract me
and the hawks.
The wind silently
caressed my face.
If tomorrow does not come
and I don't lay in your arms once again
or roll in the sand,
drink the moon on an evening of poetry
and love
lights twinkling in our eyes.
If tomorrow does not come,
and I don't touch the dew on the grass 
at daybreak,
or I may not touch the edges of a book
cutting my skin and soul
as I linger and kiss your neck,
if tomorrow does not come
I would have had enough
because you had loved me.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Forgiveness and The Long Way Home

I had a red shinny tricycle,
but never a bicycle.
I dreamt of riding free,
in a yellow lemon dress,
flying down the hill
with the wind caressing my hair.
Dad feared I would fall
and I would hurt myself.
So I didn't fly until years later,
when I ran away,
no longer accepting to be sheltered
from the storms of life.
I left with a plane ticket,
the clothes on my back,
and a dream in my eyes.
My purse stuffed with family photographs
that I treasured,
memories of what I was leaving behind.
No money
or plans,
the man sitting next to me spoke
about pre Colombian  art,
puzzled, he watched the stars in my eyes.
My life was waiting,
forbidden love,
youth, brilliant and reckless.
Seduced by a freedom fighter,
not knowing he worshiped methadone,
hidden away in the refrigerator.
When John Lennon was shot
I still believed in the change that never came.
I battled his demons
and lost.
Broken dreams and promises.
I woke up one day and walked
away with my soul battered
but not defeated.
I walked away 
and opened new doors
and dreamt new dreams
fire in my soul
the wind on my back.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015


I bow to the trees,
the birds are my choir.
I find refuge in silent fields,
immunity unspoken,
wounds barely healed,
redemption afforded.
I have forgiven you,
but not myself.
"Not possible" you exclaim,
the ache is throbbing,
the mind is searching,
answers are far and few.
Don't ask me if I want to live,
ask me if I choose to die.

So excited that is featuring The photo above is his illustration. I recently found him through my friend and talented poet and artist Claudia at . I love his work !

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Waiting to grow up

The sidewalk had traces of pink and yellow chalk,
sounds echoed of hopscotch played yesterday.
My footsteps heavy,
sadness in my heart
locked away.
I thought about the war,
sirens in the night,
a ladybug crawling on my arm.
There was a boy in school,
with big brown eyes,
his locks curled gently.
He never saw me,
he was three years older.
I knew love would come one day,
glorious love.
We left home
my brothers grown,
they attempted to shield me
from scraped knees,
broken bones and reality.
They could not see 
how sad my smile was,
how deep my thoughts.
We crossed the ocean 
and planted our lives
like roots of a tree into a 
new society.
I was mesmerized at the pace,
macaroni and cheese in
a blue and yellow Kraft box,
television loud with color and life.
There were egg shaped tape players,
and boats bobbing in the bay.
The sound of the waves in the ocean
lulled me to sleep.
I was dreaming
waiting to grow up.