The desire to be seen–

Selfish or

The most basic human need?

We crave visibility,

Demand to be told we matter,

We’re important…

But are we?

We must be told we’re goddesses,

Amazon warriors,




Would looking inside ourselves not tell us the same?

Are we not born with an innate sense of worth?


It isn’t enough to simply be seen, noticed, acknowledged

It has to be by the right person–





Potential Lover

Such a choosy beggar

Woe is me

Forever doomed to dissatisfaction


Give me the keys to the kingdom and I will never again fear



I will forever know that I am infinite

flippin’ legendary


“Remember my name”

“Mark my words”

“Watch me do me”

Are my attempts desperate?

or strategic?

Smart career moves?

Maybe just an invisibility complex.

Hate to be seen,

Angry when ignored,

Living paradox.

Grasping at moonbeams

Aiming arrows at constellations

I bathe myself in the illusion

Waltz between blurred lines

Big hair, bright colors

Dark makeup, black and white wardrobe

Preening for selfies, hiding from paparazzi


Should I hide or take center stage?

Run away or run towards the spotlight?

The stage has been set and now it’s on me

Is it my job to step into the sun


Should I take my place backstage instead?

The script is locked

The roles are cast

Now, where do I belong?

I suppose I should know already, but I don’t

So I’ll try out some things

Belt out a solo

Bust out a dance routine

Try being the lead–

then try the role of the best friend

Trusting that eventually…

The director will tap me on the shoulder, hand me the script & say,


“This is the way,

walk in it”




Photo credit: Meredith Bird, Bryce Simon and Nathan/Michelle Lewis

Make It Matter

Shots go off in the news

The words gets smaller—and scarier—yet

The same old drama floods the headlines 

And my cell phone

Nothing’s changed

Everyone’s still so petty & self-absorbed

Their world becomes THE world

And they can’t see that it’s all bigger

That all of this can be gone tomorrow


By a madman with a gun or a terrorist with little regard for his own life

The world keeps turning, great

But not with love & laughter & art & beauty

But with hate & anger & strife & angst

Will we never learn?

Will tragedy never change us until it hits home?

Do we have to lose mom, dad, friend, co-worker, brother, sister to stop fighting & start living?

Tomorrow’s never promised, but are we working towards a better one?

Time is precious so where is our drive, our purpose?

What are you doing today & why?


Make it matter.


MIM Tweets Collage

Wait out the Storm

It all hits me like a hurricane as I fight for every breath
The waters swirl around & the only calm is you at the center
Still I hold back, allow myself to be battered by the wind and waves for fear I’m unwelcome to join you in the Eye
Irrational fear may it be, somewhere in my soul it still rings true
I try to tell myself to be cautious yet take risks, be open to possibilities yet remain guarded
It’s a paradox I live everyday and it suffocates me
The struggle for balance may kill me yet
And there it is, your hand in my peripheral
Yet I’m afraid to turn, scared it’s just an illusion
Because the flicker of hope is what keeps me going
The harshness of reality proves often too hard to bear
I try to force myself to be a grownup and face the music but
The child in me yearns for the comfort of my teddy bear
To sit with you under the stars waiting for the storm to pass
I miss you as son as you leave and crave you when you’re gone
It’s your presence that makes the storm more bearable
Without you, the waves get larger and scarier and I lose myself in it
Come back and stay, take my hand and tell me we’ll get through this together
Let us wait out the storm as one



Too Much

NYE confetti toss

The car rides singing along to the radio, dressing up and taking a million pictures. Someday they’ll all be stories and Facebook throwbacks, “remember when?”

Will we recount together over wedding receptions or will I remember alone at night wondering where you all are? Is this the beginning of forever or the start of the end? Would I enjoy it more if I knew this was it or if I knew this was how it’ll always be?

It doesn’t matter but it does. I shouldn’t care but I do. I should enjoy the moment but I can’t.

I’ve been hurt too much, left too much, hoped too much, cried too much.