I need to beautify my brain.

I don’t often let her take up intentional space.
She thrives on the autopilot I’ve programmed her for.
Routine.
Repetition.

But lately, I’ve given her space for ideas to take root—
a dangerous plan for an unexplored landscape.

Over silent lunches punctuated only
by my chomping sounds as I
methodically chew my salad,
or in the steamy confines
of a too hot shower,
I bask in the weightiness of my brain.

She is laden with the burdens of the world,
bogged down by the heavy rains of grief.
There are holes where I have to dig hard
to recall memories of the not so distant past.
And yet,
there are lovely spots of restoration
where gouged flesh healed over with new growth—
redeeming painful traumas.
She may not be beautiful in the conventional sense,
but I know she is full of lovely potential.

Though it doesn’t always come naturally,
I must cultivate a sense of goodness.
I need to nurture positivity, not just in thoughts
of myself, but in how I view others, the world.
I want my mind to flourish amidst the thorns,
bloom beyond a tangle of rotted roots.

I will consciously continue to beautify my brain
so that my subconscious can be a sunny place
of grace and generosity of spirit.
Then, in quiet moments of reflective solitude,
the garden of my mind will be at peace.

Originally published in Objects Things Stuff—Messy Bits We Carry Around (Dark Thirty Poetry Publishing, 2025)

SDG