Outside the Lines

Only when I am supposed
to be sleeping
can I write the dance
of language in my head.
While the night sky
whispers lullabies
and babies sigh
my mind waltzes furiously
outside the lines.

– Anna K. Bonde

Nothing Stirs

Nothing stirs.
There is no sound
But the silent fall of gentleness
Star dust streaming to earth
And covering the ground
In a soft blanket of purity. Costuming trees
As serene and beautiful giants
Stretching long arms heavenward.
I close my eyes,
Lift my face to the sky
And feel the kisses of angels
Melting at my touch.

– Anna K. Bonde

Barefeet

my chin tilts toward the sky
imagination carving shapes from
marshmallow clouds
I wiggle painted toes
in the sunshine
and dream of all I wish to be.

– Anna K. Bonde

I listen.
You may not think so, but
I listen.
even when you aren’t speaking,
I can hear you crying out.
And I weep inside
for you.
But I could never tell you so.
So many things
I cannot say—
can’t reach out for you
and I cry inside
at this.
If I had wings
I’d pick you up
carry you so far away
from these prisons
these pointless wars
away from the edge,
I’d set you free
And dance.
hidden among the stars.
We could laugh,
freely,
and I could listen.

– Anna K. Bonde

Grandma

“that’s not the way you came
into this world,”
my mother laughs
as I gracefully twirl and
leap about the kitchen.
And I think, no.
I came into this world kicking
and screaming
after hours of labor.
And kicking and screaming
is how I plan to leave.
I plan to grow old, kicking
and screaming
I plan to dance in the kitchen
‘til I’m 85
and run barefoot in the park
when I’m 90.

When I am old, I shall
sprawl my crayons
across the floor,
and color outside the lines,
and I shall wear my slip
to a party if I please.
I shall sing in the shower,
and sing in my garden,
and sing as I skip
down the street.

Yes, kicking and screaming,
that’s how you met me,
and that’s how I’ll say
my good byes.

– Anna K. Bonde

Girl, Independent

I STAND.
at the moment
I stand alone, confused,
and hurt,
but still, I STAND.
I stand beyond you
not reaching,
not yearning,
not needing,
not willing to change myself
at your every whim
or throw myself inside-out at you.
I am who I am,
no less.

– Anna K. Bonde

underneath

I am fragile
I am thinly blown glass,
I am a down feather,
I am a caterpillar-butterfly
inside my cocoon.
Sometimes the smallest word
will shatter me
and I will curl up again
inside this tortoise-shell I call home.

Behind these walls I construct
for shelter
for a place to hide when I’m scared,
a shield to keep my dignity intact…
Behind these sturdy walls
is a colorful,
sunny, musical, magical, glittery place
which nobody sees
but me.

Please understand,
I try to open up
because I do believe – sometimes—
that my world is worth sharing
but still, I am fragile.

– Anna K. Bonde

to live

this is your last chance,
here,
before you rush out that door
into your cluttered agenda
look up,
just once
take time to breathe
take time to think
take time to feel.
pause just one second
with your hand on the knob
already
and appreciate the world
the beauty around you,
in a blade of grass
in that sunset
in the laughter of the little girl
you used to be,
in the dream you had
so long ago.
remember how to live.

– Anna K. Bonde