The Tree in Me | Poetry
Sometimes I still feel like that teenage girl
In my parents’ home
Every dream unrealized
I sometimes feel like Novalee
At 17
Though I’m 33
I just feel behind
I just feel
not good enough
No matter what I do
Not pretty enough
No matter what I do
Not smart enough
No matter how hard I try
I just feel
Behind
Maybe because I was
Left behind
In different ways
In childhood
But this is the tree in me
Its name is “not enough”
Its root is…
A lie, I suppose
I’ve tried to speak to it
As Jesus spoke to the fig tree
“Root,” I said,
“May you bear no fruit.
May you never again bear fruit.”
I spoke to a root that I couldn’t see
Physically nor spiritually
I’m not sure if it worked
But that’s the tree in me
Bearing fruit from a root
that I cannot see
That’s the tree in me
One of them
A bad one
But
Its roots have grown down deep
And I’m just having a hard time being free
with this tree in me.
Thoughts on 6/6/2026
I recall when I was small
My father slapped me
Core memory
My sister had told my mother
That I’d been making fun of a deaf kid
But I hadn’t been
I was just playing with him
in my own way
& in what I understood to be play
My father heard
Slapped me
The slap was loud
Abrupt
It hurt
Inside
Outside
My face stung
My mother watched
She saw
Said nothing
No apology from anyone,
ever.
It wasn’t brought up again.
& then
There was a day
When I visited the clothes closet with my mom
free clothes for the poor
free clothing for the impoverished
I asked my mom if I could get a dress
“No,” she told me
“It fits me,” I replied,
holding it up to my child frame
“No, you can’t have that.”
“She can have it; it’s free,” said the worker.
“She said I can have it,” I told my mother
“No,” said my mother with a shake of her head
yet a small smile on her face.
“No,” because she could
“No, don’t speak,” I’d hear later on
“No, accept that,” I’d hear later on
“Who cares that you’re sad, that you’re hurt, unsafe,” I’d hear later on.
But God cares.
Cause I belong to God.
Truth is, I never belonged to my parents;
I simply came thru them.
I entered the world thru them.
But I’ve always belonged to God.
Anyone can mishandle us,
but we’ve always belonged to God
& to God alone.
Our children belong to God.
They don’t belong to us.
We shouldn’t mishandle them,
but we can’t protect them from every hurt
in the world.
All we can do is remember
that they belong to God,
Lead them in the way that they should go,
& pray God’s protection &
wonderful, warring angels to surround them
& to fight for them.
The command is to lead kids in the way that they should go
& when they are older, they won’t depart from it
I’ve heard it said
that this statement goes both ways
A blessing & a curse
Lead them into a hellish life
When they’re older, they won’t depart from it
Sure, yeah, that saying goes both ways
Thank God for the ones
Who do their best
To not lead us astray…
I think that I accept my childhood
I think that it’s because
I accept the “okay” that I’m living in now.
I still have questions
There are still some “whys” that I don’t feel comfortable asking
Maybe at one point I did,
But I don’t right now
I’ll ask my “whys” to God
& not to people.
Shame & trauma block people
from understanding things, themselves
My whole life is like an inhale
Inspiration
I hear the birds chirping right now
At 5am
They love this desert air
I think it’s good to be in the desert sometimes
God is meeting me here.
He met me here when I arrived,
Drove with me here on the ride
Rode with me on the ride through states
And is with me thru the different states of Ash
Thru the different states of my life
My life is good
It’s comfortable
I actually really enjoy it
It’s so much better
Than it was
10 and 20 years ago
I wouldn’t return to 20 years ago
Mean girls
I wouldn’t return to 10 years ago
Mean men
I like 33
Maybe there’s a dying & a rising
happening for me at 33
Just as it happened for
Mary’s child
Just as it happened for Jesus
Juice at 5am
& I wonder 💭
Who the man is
Who will find me wonderful
In all of my carefulness
& in all of my failures
In all of my unique talents
& in all of my weaknesses
& limits
In all of my moments of strength
& in all of my
times of falter.
Who will find me wonderful
with my complex sexuality?
It is complex
for many people
Simple for some
Complex for many
Life
A fallen world
Has made sexuality complex for many
It took me years & years
To accept that I’m a sexual person
God made us sexual beings
I was in my early 30s
By the time I accepted it
By the time I stopped feeling shame about it
Then something happened
That harmed my ability to remain feeling free
in my sexuality
But I accept it again
And in marriage, I’ll freely be
that part of me
& I’ll try to be
every part of me
because I desire to be.
Who will find me wonderful
with my childhood,
the back & forth
the confusion
that I didn’t depart from
fully
until my 30s
I think I’ve departed from the confusion
from hell & from shame
I think I’ve departed from
hating & despising my own name
which was associated with shame
I wish that in my past,
I dated wheat & not tare
I wish that my heart was available to others
who were more healed, more whole
My heart was broken
As broken as my soul
As confused as my mind
My limbic brain
was shattered.
It’s taken me a while to believe
in my own intelligence
Despite my accomplishments,
I’m still learning to believe
in me
I thank God for 33
There’s a vulnerability that exists
right along power & strength
It’s all on me
& God
to keep going
That’s the vulnerability
But
It’s all on me
& God
To keep going
That’s the power & strength.
I give a long, satisfying stretch
Like a cat
Long & slow
Like I own this part of the world
That I’m in
Like time stops just for me
The space I’m sitting in
Lying in
Standing in
I own
& time, the day, rest -
They’re all for me & will work for me.
It’s Saturday.
Yes. Yay.
I guess it’s still my favorite day.
I don’t have to work on Saturdays.
The command is not to work.
I still do some things
if I’m feeling them
Cause Sabbath was made for man
& not man for the Sabbath.
I’m going to just watch
some movies today,
maybe.
Every dream is being realized
I want the one who finds me wonderful
I’ll find him amazing.
Lord, bring the one who finds me wonderful,
but don’t let him eat up all of my
favorite snacks.
Dear Future Daughters | A Letter and Promises to My Daughters
Hi, everyone
I wrote a poem to my future daughters.
Growing up, I was never raised to be the best woman that I could be. I was not raised to have self-worth, I wasn't protected, and I felt far from feminine.
I was taught to accept anything. I was taught that I could not do much in life. I was taught to not expect much from men and that my voice didn't matter in any setting.
That is what my parents taught me. That is what they allowed for me to learn, to internalize.
Today, I know that my parents could pour out of them only what they had within themselves. I've found purpose in the pain of my childhood - in the pain of my upbringing - and I've made a promise to myself to always represent myself the best I can. I'm being pruned all the time. This cutting feels like surgery, but it's good for me; there is constant change happening...I keep the promises that I make to myself because I'm worth the promises that I make to myself.
I've made my future daughters some promises, too. Take a listen.
A Letter to 15-Year Old Me | A Poem
Dear 15-year old me,
Do you recall
when you were in foster care
and your foster mom’s sister in law
entered the room you were in
& tried to take your hand
so that you could join them
for Thanksgiving dinner?
Do you recall that she asked you to join,
invited you,
& you declined,
then she reached for your hand
& you shrank bank
because of anxiety
& because the thought of being around others
was too much?
I wish that I could let you know
that in 18 years,
you’ll be okay.
You’ll be on the couch
in your own home
& you will have healed alot
& you will still successfully be healing
& when people reach for your hand,
you extend it
usually.
I want you to know that you’ll be okay
& that the thought of being in a social situation
doesn’t have to take your breath away.
You don’t have to panic
as you did that night.
I wish that I could tell you
that you’ll release things
that burden your dreams at night,
that burden your mind every morning.
I know that 15-year old me
thinks that things will never be okay,
but they will one day.
He Doesn't Know I've Changed & Grown | A Poem
I don't think he knows
that I love myself
& that I've grown
I don't think he knows
who I was
5, 10, & 20 years ago
He doesn't know who I was 2 years ago
He doesn't know
that I love myself
& that I've grown.