Poetry

Sorrow My Heart Can't Overcome

by Kami Orr

Upon the street my heart is lain,

all haggard in the midnight rain.

It gave its best, it gave its all,

but no more can it take the pain.

Broken, battered through the years,

beat to death by hurt and fears.

Once safely tucked within my breast,

now laid to rest in heaven’s tears.

The best of friends we used to be,

living, beating wild and free.

Giving pieces here and there,

giving love so willingly.

How tightly I’ve clung to it so,

patching it up as I go.

My faulty dreams of sunlit love

now wallow in the afterglow.

So, there I leave it, though it stings;

for I’ve no use for broken things.

“Farewell my friend, farewell to dreams

and happy ever afterings.

I must, before my nerve retreats,

abandon thee in drowning streets.”

But in my final glance I see

my heart, though broken, still it beats.

How can this be? I can’t contrive

of how my heart could e’er survive

the depth of agony I’ve had;

yet there it lies, clearly alive.

To think of all the pain it’s borne—

the death, dejection and the scorn.

The bitterness of lovers lost,

doth that not give me cause to mourn?

I lift it from its grave impure.

Perhaps my gloom was premature.

I turn it over in my hands.

Can this old friend and I endure?

I notice all around my heart,

the parts that had been torn apart,

are stronger than they were before,

healed up in graceful works of art.

Remarkable to think how strong

my dauntless heart was all along.

“I’ll ne’er abandon thee again,

for in my breast thou doth belong.

And I’ll not hold thee anymore

so careful as I did before;

for thou wast meant to bruise and break,

to heal, and then go back for more.”

So let the pain and anguish come.

Bring on the grief to make me glum;

for now I know there’ll never be

sorrow my heart can’t overcome.

Mom the Writer

by Kami Orr

I write between changing the diapers.

I write between changing the sheets.

I come up with plots in the shower

while the soap trickles down my cheeks.

I write while I’m waiting in car line

for my kids to get out of school,

then all the way home, tell them stories

in hopes they will think they are cool.

I constantly listen to podcasts

of writers who’ve done it before,

all the while neglecting my sweetheart

who just wants to see me more.

I ask myself is it worth it—

all this time and energy spent?

Will this ever come to fruition?

Could it someday pay the rent?

Then I think of my sweet little darlings—

eyes lit up with wonder and awe—

and I know that in me lies a power

that until now I never saw.

It’s the power to take a person

who is living a life so droll,

and transport them into adventure

down a deep and enticing hole

to a world where fairies flutter,

where witches and werewolves dwell,

where impossible cannot happen.

That is what I am meant to tell.

So here I am writing a poem

while my baby drifts off to cloud nine.

And while she’s lost in a dream,

she will know I am chasing mine.

And that’s what makes it all worth it—

this sacrifice day and night—

so my little ones learn to chase their dreams

as they watch their mother write.

The Superhero in Me

by Kami Orr

“Onward,

to battle!”

cries the superhero in me, 

"For a slew of wretched villains do I see.

The scariest is Fear,

with his beastly eyes aglow

and his pow’r to turn a good thing into bad.

The craftiest is Doubt,

inconspicuous and sly, 

making my venturous confidence go mad.

The ugliest is Hate,

spouting venom everywhere,

apprehending grace in cages ironclad.

Onward,
to Battle!”

cries the superhero in me,

“For your greatest foe is disbelief in me.”