A small sampling of my poetry. I’m currently in the early stages of putting them into book form.
All poems are copyright © 2021 Andrea Scoretz. If you want to use one, contact me and ask. I’ll probably say yes.
If you use one on Instagram, please credit me: @AndreaSwrites
Thanks for reading. I appreciate the support! 💚
Exalted
I belong to the sun
exalted in the sands
where time moves slow
because I am free.
Sky Talker
A rapper’s words validated me
through broken falsetto
as beautifully true
as the north sky is wide.
Will you accept your blessings? he asked.
Oh my – that’s what those things are…
all the little things I cursed
glowing with grace,
right under my imperfectly perfect nose.
So I guess I should go with the current
instead of fighting it now.
And give thanks to the pebbles,
and the rocks,
I collide with along the way.
I guess I’ll keep talking to the sky
If it keeps telling the truth
No Moorage
Untie me from this ship,
The rhythm of what you want from me
Takes me away from myself.
Every Time
Every time I judge myself
I cling to the leg of systems
That are served by my suffering.
Through the Seams
Wear this suit,
He said,
And you will fit in.
Shame might sparkle through the seams
But it will comfort me to know
That the parts of you
I have forever feared in myself,
Are hidden.
Buckets
Cry me your buckets of tears
so I can see your signs
All 12
Let me see the man
and the woman
who must rise
for you to see
me – us – them –
that your I am
is mine,
and mine
is yours.
Know this –
you were taught to deny your entirety
it’s happening all the time
so don’t be afraid to see it.
New landscapes are built
from the grit of your journey
It’s not wrong
It just is
You build dynasties
from the ashes of your ancestor’s sins
Your chest may hold their pain
and your shoulders the atrocities of him
You may be a sponge
for the repercussions of the splintering of love
But it is time
to take your finger off the pulse
of something that’s long since dead
It is time to witness what’s being built
from the ashes
It is time to see the beauty being made from the madness
Trauma Bonds
I’m drawn to you
Because you hurt me
In all the intricate ways
I’ve learned
to hurt myself.
In me
I see the strength
and fragility
in 68 years.
I see the fear
and the 14-year-old
in 40.
I see the child in the man.
The little girl in the woman.
And I see them all in me, too.
If I can
If I can give,
even when I feel taken from,
I can live fully.
If I can allow my tap to flow,
even when the ones being offered to me are systemically stagnant,
I can grow.
If I can say, “OK, I accept my part in this,”
and not just blame others,
I can see that I am whole.
If I can be generous,
even when I feel choked of love,
I can be free.
2002
I didn’t need him
I wanted him
And he needed to reject me
We both needed to get more intimately acquainted with the cycle of abandonment.
And hell did we ever.
Hell is what it felt like at times,
He onto another as quickly as he left the last for me
And me, retreating further into the cycle of blaming myself for Every. Last. Issue.
“If only I’d been perfect…”
Fucking yuck.
It was messy and terrible
but it was part of a plan,
a plan neither of us had any clue we were a part of.
Every last ounce of ouch was savory perfection
And I wouldn’t trade the sting
For anything.
Stay
Stay with me, doubt said
If you get to know me
you won’t need to be so scared of me
You’ll learn that I’m in everyone
and only powerful
If you believe I am all there is.
Back To Born
Coming back to born
Could mean being ignored
Denied
Ostracized
By the ones who tore you away
From who you were
before you graced the planet
With your presence.
Beacons
I remember how quickly forever
became right now
How the tunnels became filled with light,
beacons for the unknown
to surface
and say
Take me in – I will set you free.
Channels
Bring me your broken dreams
And I’ll help you salvage them
Not replications of what you once craved
But newer; better; louder; deeper.
You don’t need to know how or why
Just believe that it can occur
Give your hopes to me –
In the unknown –
And I will make it so.
So shall it be.
North Gate
You are the northernmost gate
to your own healing.
You are redemption,
it bleeds from every pore,
invisible, yet felt as an unsedated slice
Your limbs scream and your hairs raise with inherent knowing
It’s verified, that you are your own fuel.
The years just distracted you from the truth for a while.
I don’t get it
Because I don’t get you
I will shuffle you into a category.
That way I can fear you more clearly.
The harder I push you
The more people will see
That I am not you.
Or am I?
I’ll market it as a decision based on superiority and intelligence
So no one will ever know.
Or will they?
Can they see what I’m doing?
I am so scared.
Sore Feet
I’m not going to chase you
My feet are sore from all this running
It’s so tiring
Trying to make you like me
When truthfully
You made your decision
Years before
The soles of these shoes
Wore out