There’s a House

This poem is dedicated to everyone who has yet to find their life ambition.

There are two open windows outside
Adjoining your bedroom window.
There are two open doors inside
Adjoining your kitchen.

There are three closed windows

Somewhere in the middle

Somewhere behind you.

Forget ‘em.

There are three closed doors behind you.
Three closed doors

All of which deserve you


Three closed doors.

What are you going to do?

There’s an open house inside of you
It’s tempting you
It’s calling you
It wants to be filled.

But there’s a dream somewhere above you

Somewhere in the clouds

Somewhere way above you.
What are you going to do?

Please take it
Oh please
Please make it yours.
Please fill your emptiness
Please take the ownership
Of the sky
Of the future
Of all that is behind you

Not by bondage
But rather by acceptance
Of everything you are
And everything you will to be.

Please don’t cry because you’re

not sure yet,

But instead



There is an empty house.
And you could fill it with anything.


YOU so choose.

Because, darling …

Look up

and see

All there is to be gained from freedom
The freedom of knowing
You can be


you want to be.

Because, darling …

There’s an empty house!
There’s a blank canvas.
There’s a dream out there

just waiting to find you.

It will find you.
And it will give you the paints
The paints you will use to paint whatever
Beautiful picture you so choose to give

to the world.

The Ice Water Grave

She saw him as she reached out her hands to touch him.
Death. An almost certain.
Waves. The almost natural.
Reaching back out, pulling back in -
Unpermissionally -
The sweet like twas after eating a rich candy,
The punch after a long, good life.
The ending note.
Lo she went down. Ice.
Lo she fell to her ice water grave,
And broke us all of our silence.

Bradham. Ice Water Grave Poem.

A Poem for 9/11

Thirteen years ago
My mother didn’t come to get me out of bed.
My father left work early
A reporter – his name I do not even know –
Shook the corners of our

The fire lit the sides of buildings.
The smoke bellowed.
It was so high.
I remember baffling over how high it was.

“People work up there?”

Some kind of evil

I thought.

A horrid black cloud.

Screaming people.
Running people.
People I had never met – I thought they were family anyway.
The mind of six-year-old

there are no strangers in war.

the mind of six-year-old.

“Is this normal?”

Well, I’m a full grown woman now.
But the girl who saw 9/11 on the television system

Is the same little girl who still remembers it today.

Is the same little girl

facing life daily

Still asking

Was part of the youngest generation who witnessed 9/11

on their television systems
across a nation.
a nation

now of other adults like me.
adults looking back on 9/11
still asking why.

God hearing them.
Adults facing life, politics – work, school, and family, – a background voice –

the voice of a child, as bellows through -

“Please explain to me, again – violence. What’s this about the greater good?”

the six-year-old girl
the six-year old girl whose family lost she’ll never meet.
will not leave me alone.

Of Course I Do

So I’ve been getting it these past few weeks. Life’s been hard. I’m not going to even try to sugarcoat it. I’ve just about had it. I’ve had friends do me wrong, parents give me the silent treatment, financial stress more powerful than any I have ever experienced, and emotional responsibility recklessly thrown on my back. Emotional responsibility I have to keep in check by the hour. Emotional responsibility I don’t think I can handle every morning when I wake up, but I force myself out of bed – convinced somewhere deep down inside that even this shall pass.

Sometimes friends do us wrong. It’s not an anomaly. What matters is how we deal with the friend when they do us wrong. Anger solves nothing. Anger pushes us away from resolutions, traps us in a pit of our own unforgiveness and rage, and limits our responses to emotionally unstable and unproductive solutions. Wallowing in our own self-pity does us no good either. I’ve heard a lot of people say that you are only the victim if you choose to be the victim, but I have to say I disagree. Sometimes we are the victim. We don’t have a choice in this. If we choose to believe we not a victim when, in fact, we are a victim, we limit our knowledge and understanding of the situation and therefore end up making unhelpful or unwise decisions. I’ve been a victim this week. I’m not so prideful as to try and convince myself I have everything together. That I’m unwoundable. I’m not unwoundable. I’m vulnerable. Just like you.

Sometimes parents are not there for us when we need them. This is not exclusive to people whose parents who have passed away, had an ugly divorce, or have addiction problems. Sometimes our parents can be one room over and still not be there for us. Sometimes parents can have an appearance of perfection to a bystander, when in reality, the entire family is in disarray and upheaval. What’s in the family stays in the family. There are plenty of people just like me. You don’t want to talk badly about your family to outsiders. You internalize your hurt. You vent into pillows. I get it. I’ve been there my whole life.

Sometimes money does control our life. No amount of Hallmark card mushy-gushy lip service can convince me that a life cannot be either saved or destroyed by means of a presence of or a lack thereof money. There are people dying right now because cannot afford another meal. Because they cannot afford healthcare. There are young people who cannot attend college because their family cannot afford to send them, so with this, they face a lifetime of penny pinching and poverty in an increasingly degree-oriented work world. Money can save a life. Money can pay for a meal. Money can pay for healthcare. Money can pay for college. What about love? Money can forge relationships and create connections. Money can network. Money can relieve stress. Some of us don’t have money. Some of us are handicapped. I know. There’s no solution other money either.

Sometimes emotional responsibility can far exceed the suggested average for a person your age. Sometimes we can feel overwhelmed. Sometimes we have a right to feel overwhelmed. Sometimes we are overwhelmed. This isn’t a crime. It’s not a fault on your part. It’s a reality. So what do we do? We push forward. We wrestle hourly. We fight to keep our emotions balanced. In tune. Healthy. Wise. Sometimes we have to get in the shower, turn up the water and let ourselves cry. Sometimes we have to go run it out. Sometimes we have to write a journal entry – a completely honest one, this time. Whatever we can do. We strive to keep everything together. I understand. I’ve been in places having me struggle by the second.

Sometimes we cannot see people’s hardship. Sometimes wounds are invisible. Sometimes people cannot contribute their hardship to a death. To a divorce. To a relationship failed. To an obvious sickness. To a family problem which can be spoken of. To a feeling – definable, easily describable. I’m not one of these people. I have problems I can’t talk about with other people. I have questions I can’t ask. I need help I will never attain. Some of us understand this. Some have problems just like mine. We can never talk about them. But know, here! They exist. I know how you feel. You know how I feel. We are never alone in our solitary state. This is what gives me peace. Strength. This should give you peace and strength.

Why am I telling you this? I want to share with you how I deal with the hardship. Do I still text my friends back after they hurt me? Do I still give my parents a chance after they let me down? Do I still fight for financial stability when it’s all I can do to pay for the bills I have now? Do I still choose to wrestle with emotional responsibility even when it would be easier to just throw it off my back? I do. Of course I do. I will not stop until I die.

The Flower

The flower is like its purple kiss
from heaven.
Beautiful and silent
Like twas laid in blankets of motherly
Essence bowing to air in breath of
mountainly brethren,
and consciousness laid in everlasting motions.
So twas the night when hit its
glory figments -
and drowned the world out of all

The Flower