A Poem on Friendship

Photo by Alma Ortman

We spot treasure outside inside
somewhere in between — our veins showing us
how, our secrets showing us why,
because we’re all new enough at this
and the more I sit with you,
the more we sit like solid rock
opened by the early sun,
cracked and beautiful, our patterns of moss
and root…

Photo by Alma Ortman

The shape of this smile started to change
when I let myself feel space
inside soil and me the same;
when my fingernails grew long all on their own
so that I could more easily peel the
oldest pieces of weight off my shoulders,
slivers of steel and early selves that began falling
like water, the soil…

Goodbye again & thank you,
city of green and marble,
tree blossoms and suits,
where buildings are low so we can
see more sky.

Where I fell often and picked up
therapy for scars;
Where I learned to hold space
in my life and power in my voice;
Where I learned to hold…

Photo by Alma Ortman

On one of those bright blue
sun-sky days,
a day that feels spacious
a day that’s like cake
I’m walking this dog,
the one who is like the one
I’ve always wanted,
the one who brought me back
to mother earth,
the one who meets (almost) every
moment aligned, our moods synced
to spend hours hiking for treasure
or long rainy…

Photo by Alma Ortman

How I like to spend my free time
is like this:
picking up rocks washed by river
gathering the flattest ones to stack
one on top of another —
I know the colors will
always amaze me:
deep safe purples,
eager pinks to red brown clays,
oranges and greens and all the grays,
white that is crystal and white…

City night view of Mars in the sky
Photo by Alma Ortman

I didn’t know it yet,
but I was battling my anxiety
with booze and friends
and bars down the street,
tripping over laughs at crosswalks
home —

Drinking just enough to get to that point
where soul would start talking through me
and we could all stop pretending
to be cool or clear

Artwork- Akhilanda: The Goddess of Never Not Broken. Everything happens for my liberation. I choose to become only more love.
Artwork by Lisbeth Cheever-Gessaman

I’m in the 2nd grade: a new kid, shy, scared, and thinking about love. This was a worthwhile distraction, my 7-year-old subconscious must have thought, from actually feeling the full anxiety. As I looked around the classroom, my young brain went to work: hmm, who do I have a crush…

Photo by Alma Ortman

I’ve been thinking a lot about hope
these days, and how Pema said
hopelessness is the path to freedom,
and accepting the groundlessness
that is forever below our feet
is what
shakes us

And I’ve been thinking about a woman
whose dad is dying as I touch this paper,
surrounded by…

Photo by Alma Ortman

I’ve written poems
inside my head
for days
for you.
Like early songs,
they build pieces of stories
I want to believe.

Your face does this thing to me —
it reminds me of how I feel
when I catch a bird soaring through sky
in a way that dances with the…

Alma Ortman

Mindful poet & lifelong learner. Musings on belonging, authentic connection, joy, spirit, body, nature, inner work, vulnerability, self-love, fierce compassion

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