New Poem - The Illusion of Perfect Symmetry

"Now my heart breaks
        when my beautiful sister (left above)
tries to turn her right side
        away from the world."

When I try to feign wonder,
    I become Spock saying, "fascinating."
No face is symmetrical;
    mine is just more obviously uneven.

My left face and neck is mostly slack;
that eyebrow
    has never moved.
When I smile or
    look surprised
            it is obvious
                    to me.

People say, "Oh I never noticed that."
    I feel they are full of shit,
while knowing they are telling

                    their truth.

My sister's cancer reduced the right side
        of her face to a similar lifelessness,

                    except
she also has no sense of touch and
        has scars on her neck.

Now my heart breaks
        when my beautiful sister
tries to turn her right side
        away from the world.

I fret over a gift of
                    my birth,
        while
she has shame over
        a sign of her willingness
                    to endure.

We view the world through
                    unhappy slackness.  

Roger Ebert contemplated a face transplant
        after his own, even more severe,
facial disfigurement;
        he concluded that it was still his face,
                    he knew it and
                    loved it.

We too must own our
        half perfection;
the illusion of perfect symmetry
        is only ever accomplished
                    in our minds.

New Poem - Forgotten Poem

Together
on the cheaply upholstered hotel couch
the long day reaches it whispering end with us
hand in hand.

My feet
ache; so, I kick off the black, leather extra-wides. 
This is the first time you have seen me
sock footed.

I have
a notion that coolly sharing gross physiology is intimacy. 
So I fight shyness and keep my feet
exposed.

You
watch me with a devilish grin as I yank off my socks;
it is time we become more than
lovers.

New Poem - The Richness I Possess

I do because I can;
     I know the power of a life,
        the wisdom of a whisper, and
            the rightness of joy

                - however brief.

I care because
    I have been cared about and
        know the power of sheltering arms,            
            comforting words, and
                generous actions
       
                    - however humble.

I speak truth because
    I know the hurtful power of lies,
        the destruction of deception, and
            the pain of being mislead

                - however well intentioned.

I appreciate because
    I have crafted my own art and
        know the power of loving praise,          
            honest critiques, and
                public display

                    - however small the audience.

I own the world because
    I know it, have laid a claim to it,
        logged it in my ledger, and
            defend the place where I stand

                - however small my footprint.

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The above poem was started as part of a writing prompt given at my orientation for the Greater Madison Writing Project's summer institute.  We were told to respond to these quotes from Brenda Ueland: "the ways you possess richness...the much-much that is in you...call out and know it and write it."