Columbus

Ricky and I transitioned back to Ohio, two days ago, after living in Nashville for almost four years. We left with nothing but gratitude for Nashville, and it forever has a piece of our heart. Now in Columbus, my mind’s capacity is filled with the current day, this current joy. I’m so thankful for this place–my once called home, now called home again.

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Columbus

By Regan Smith

• • •

Columbus met me
with full yellow blooms
and weepy grey skies.

She was once my patient mother,
when I had first arrived,
and called her my home
six years ago.

She was gentle,
stroked my hair,
let me cry as I
healed from hurt,
and purely listened.

She watched me
get married,
taught me how
to steady my lifestyle,
and would sing me
lullabies in the thick
of the forest bed.

She let me leave,
sending me with
nothing but love.

During my absence,
I learned discipline,
firm teaching that
truth and love
should never be
untwined; rewarded
with strength and
responsibility.

And now,
four years later,
I cross state lines,
landing back in
my mother’s arms.

And while she’s
thankful I’m coming
home, she knows that
I’m not returning solely
as a daughter,
rather a mother myself.

I’ve fallen pregnant
with dreams and visions,
the beginning of a
lineage that will stretch
across the world;
and now I wait patiently
to give birth, saying
a prayer every morning,
preparing my mind
and my home.

And again, she’s gentle,
as I ask how to nurse and
nurture these newborn
dreams that will
come to fruition,
and take full form.

Moment Amassing

Lately, my mind had been clouded–both with wonderful ventures and stressful circumstances. I’m doing my best to hold both with intentionality, whether I’m neck deep in house-showing preparations or on top of San Francisco’s Bernal Heights.

Tomorrow, I know that these moments will pass. I’ll be left with the memory, a lesson, and a greater thankfulness for the day that is before me.

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Moment Amassing

by Regan Smith

• • •

I collect memories,
facts, figures, songs–
storing them safely
in poetry.

I take the scene,
ambling in this atmospheric
slice of span,
and place my pen to paper
transcribing the moment,
to save my mind some space.

Resisting the Tides

I’m so thrilled to welcome Juanita as a guest author on Introspective Collective. Resisting the Tides is a truly beautiful poem full of strength, courage, and encourages a state of mindfulness amidst turbulence.

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Resisting the Tides

by Juanita Rey

• • •

I’m sitting on a rock
and the tide is rolling in around me.
I’m separating from the land.
There’s nothing underfoot but water.

The waves slap on either side
like the fists of a wife-beater
but I determined to remain calm,
to not move from my tiny island.

I know it’s all the moon and sun’s doing.
All those gravitational forces
acting on a spinning globe.
But, when you’re actually sitting here,
with ocean swirling around you,
it feels much more personal than that.

The pounding doesn’t stop me thinking.
The spray can’t interfere with my reminiscing.
This is my sanctuary.
I think of home and family,
not drowning.

Eventually, the tide pulls out.
It’s met its match.
Other rocks appear now.
Maybe other women will join me.

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Juanita Rey is a Dominican poet who has been in this country (United States) for five years. Her work has been published in Pennsylvania English, Harbinger Asylum, Petrichor Machine and Porter Gulch Review.

Accompanying photograph is by Farrah Emami.

Self's Reflection

In light of the Morning Air, Morning Light book sale, I wanted to share a couple poems. These poems can be found on opposite ends of the collection. I often tell friends and readers that the story of redemption found within Morning Air, Morning Light wasn’t a one-time occurrence. I continuously go through cycles of the darkness of Nightfall, and the glory of the final chapter.

These poems reflect my struggle with self-acceptance. It’s not something that I have fully conquered, rather a healing process that gets better daily, with minor relapses. I’m still learning how to wholly and fully accept and love myself. I think I’ll be forever be a student to self-acceptance–digging into deeper and deeper levels of this self-love, seeing myself through the eyes of my Creator.

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At least once a day

Hypersensitive, 
with every mirror, 
I stand in front of myself, 
staring eye-to-eye, 
mind racing rapidly–
its prominence paralyzes my physical being.

Slumped over, sunken eyes, 
lips slightly open.

Seeing this face, it isn’t my own–
cheekbones pronounced, they lost their color– 
which echoes the void in my voice.  

Eyes embody the outline of my pupil; 
they don’t smile anymore. 

Hair on the floor, 
and collecting between my fingers– 
short, brittle nails, 
bitten to mask their cracks. 

Tiny arms, too wide, 
I don’t remember a realistic size. 

Wondering how the wood would frame my face, 
or what color velvet, would match this
pale skin, hollow mind.

• • •

Breathing Spell

I catch my visual echo.

My eyes slowly scan a tired,  
yet trying, face.  

The in-between. 

Midnight hair, daylight skin. 

A balance, 
tipping at the weight of emotion. 

 But feelings are fleeting, 
and right now does not last forever. 

I can force the proportion to lean into progression–
if I keep trying, 
identifying and extracting, 
an endless pursuit. 

A pinch of peach, returning to my cheeks.

I bridge between this duplicate of my being–
as foreign as an old photo. 

Resemblances begin to arise. 

I remember these eyes, 
lining of my face, 
fuller hair.

I am slowly slipping into my skin, 
rather than an onlooker’s third-party perspective. 

I rub my hands together, 
hearing the gentle friction
of palm-between-palm. 

My skin, my body, 
a temple.

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If you haven’t yet picked up your copy of Morning Air, Morning Light, it’s currently on sale for $10 w/ free shipping (and comes signed and with a Morning Air, Morning Light bookmark)! This sale ends 6/1 but you can order your copy here. If you’re local to Nashville, I’d love to hand-deliver!

If you have read Morning Air, Morning Light please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads!

Retreat

I’m currently in Colorado Springs, on the last day of my solo writer’s retreat. I’m been learning new techniques, vocabulary, art history; I’ve been experimenting with different writing styles to expand and stretch my creativity.

I thought that I would try my hand at some stream-of-consciousness writing–where the words are written without any structure or punctuation. It’s a pure way of writing. The words just simply are.

• • •

Retreat

The mountain town welcomes me with snow capped peaks and a cafe serving decaf coffee with a french couple chattering beside me my high school mind picks up on a few words they speak and how they spill onto this paper and are carried past the botanical and butterfly posters out the wide open door on the bright blue tempered day and though my reason for this visit is to retreat and write it really was predestined so I could reconnect and reopen my mind to the spontaneity and surprise that plays sweetly through song and through the cherry blossom blooms against the heavens and all the while I look back out towards the horizon and see the snow capped peaks

Metamorphose

I’ve wrestled with how to announce this upcoming news, and settled on writing the way I only know how–with upfront honesty. In the next month, Ricky and I will be moving from our home in Nashville to our once-called home city in Ohio. As the days move closer to the state-to-state move, which is still in the hazy future, more and more mixed feelings are tossed about. But there is one thing I am sure of. This move will fulfill our dreams, our purpose.

For those that know me personally, or have followed our story, Ricky and I moved from Columbus, Ohio to Nashville, TN about 3.5 years ago. It was the best move that we had made in our life. Columbus was the place where I rehabilitated from toxicity, ranging from physical healing from self-harm to the initial steps of mental-healing from trauma. I met Ricky there, and we fell in love.

Alike my initial Ohio move, Ricky and I were purposefully brought to Nashville. It was under the unknown guise of Ricky pursuing music and his band, but it was a predestined plan to take Ricky and I into deeper revelation, healing. There were things within my heart that I never anticipated to unlock: bitterness that had been rotting within, jealousy and hatred hidden in my heart.

It wasn’t Nashville that unearthed this in me, rather the season. This was the time where I was mentally ready and willing; this season pulled all the ick out of me, like a purifier. It didn’t leave gaping holes, rather filled with an abundance of joy. I re-found my love for writing here, which has wildly flourished to me publishing a poetry collection. I befriended conviction, the honest friend, always looking out for my best. But most importantly, I’ve allowed Holy Spirit to awaken in me, rather than ignoring and silencing it to dormancy in my life.

I know that when I move back to Ohio, this will carry along with me. My previous dwelling in Ohio to now, is truly as contrasting as death and life–a striking metamorphose. I wish to spread love and community around, leaking a trail of hope wherever I walk. My deep hatred for humanity stirred in my spirit has transformed into an emotional wave of love for people.

Several months back, I was exploring the Columbus art museum independently. While walking, I became engulfed with emotion to the point of tears. I saw into the souls perusing the scattered artwork–knowing that some are lost, others are overcome with anxiety, others craving community to celebrate their wins and encourage their dormant dream to fruition. This tidal wave of love pulled me close; it was an overwhelming confirmation that championed this change.

I feel incredible alacrity for this new season, this new location. Ricky will be settling into a worship/arts position full time at our previous church; I will continue to work at Lyft, but remotely from our new home in Ohio.

I feel such peace about moving to a place that I said that I’d never live again. The best is truly yet to come.

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EDIT: The Nashville Farewell poetry show has been cancelled due to the rapid rate our move is taking! Morning Air, Morning Light can still be purchased through this site and I will be sure to sign every copy shipped.