Lindsay Lujan


Onward to the kingdom of heaven you go. Never will I know, those fingers and toes. Cursed with a womb, so hollow. Where the ticking clock had somehow broke. I failed you from the start. I heard not, your beating heart. I could not cradle you in my arms. To sing you to sleep and protect you from harm. Hear the pitter patter of feet, come to a quickening halt. Never will you crawl. Never will you walk. God gave to you, hummingbird wings. To fly from here, to eternity. Where you’ll sleep ever so soundly. shrouded in his light and promised safety. Until the day comes when we will meet. Among the clouds. Among the trees.

By: Lindsay Allison Lujan / March 18th 2016 / AGE 26

Author’s Note: I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the demons inside of me that I have to face. I’ve been suffering from writers block for the last few years and I’ve recently realized the reasoning behind that. It’s the fact that I would rather suppress my issues than face them. I was a much stronger individual back in the day and I’ve lost myself somewhere along the way. This poem was inspired by my medical condition. For the last seven years I have suffered from a condition called Prolactinoma. Short hand version of this condition is that it is a pituitary tumor that sits at the base of your brain. The biggest issue that it causes is infertility. I have not had a menstrual cycle in over seven years and it has caused many inner complexes but mainly the fact that I don’t know how I feel about living as a barren woman. I will touch more on this topic at a later date when I’ll have more answers.



I think of him, and down, down I go, and where I’ll end up, God, I don’t want to know. I sleep in the company of my fears, with my barely dried up tears. With my every thought of him, running through my head. Always thinking about him, time after time, right before bed. I hate not wanting to go to sleep, haunted by his face, haunted by his memory. Lying awake in the dark of the night. I just hope that someday soon… I’ll finally be able to turn out the light.

By: Lindsay Allison Lujan / October 26, 2003 / AGE 13

This was the second poem that I got published. By then I had decided to start writing about subjects with purpose. So this was written in regards to my biological father who in all intents and purposes had abandoned me. My mother decided to leave my father while pregnant with me and relocate to Missouri from Orange County, California. That is where my entire family is from with the exception of me. My grandparents decided to move to Missouri with their small fortune to retire in an essence to live comfortably. My parent’s divorce was finalized when I was sixth months old in 1990. In my father’s defense he did move out here to try and be closer to his children, however when I reached age eight he disappeared. Because of his actions my mother had me take the last name of my step father which was Madison. I kept it until I was in the sixth grade, at which time, I wanted to return to my birth name in order to match my other three biological siblings. I grew up wondering if he ever thought of me or if the man was even still alive until he reappeared when I was twenty-one. Only myself and my brother John agreed to meet with him. I can recall being infatuated with our similarities but inwardly cringing with discomfort. By then I had grown accustomed to the fact that I was void of a dad. My siblings were old enough to remember him but I was not. He was just a man. A mere stranger. After I satisfied my curiosity I planned to cut ties with him, but he took it upon himself to do that for me. We have not heard of or seen him since, but I do wish him well. Wherever he may be. Forgiveness is never easy, but for your own peace of mind… it’s necessary.

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imageimageimageSo the first poem that I have ever written in my life happened when I was eleven. I grew up with really bad A.D.H.D. as a kid and often times those who have certain learning disabilities excel in more artistic areas. I can remember blocking out the teacher per usual in sixth grade and reciting over and over a phrase that was stuck in my head when I was supposed to be listening to that lecture of the day. If I had a nickel for every time I had to walk at recess for such behavior I would be one rich bitch today. Anyways, the minute she paused her babbling long enough I quickly jotted it down before I could forget it. Afterwards, I showed it to the librarian who in turn took it upon herself to submit it for publication and I won. I remember being perplexed since the poem in all actuality was about suicide and they didn’t quite comprehend that. But like many say it’s all about how each individual deciphers poetry through their own unique interpretation. However, the last two lines kinda says it all. I would rather have remained asleep than return to that current reality in which I was living.



Thought of the Day

In the spirit of the books that I have been reading lately, I have begun to jot down some new material. I’ve been studying a mixture of subjects and certain topics pop into mind. So here is a little teaser of what I am currently working on. First stanza only as of right now, but give me a week or two for it to continue to develop!


A figure, free falling through the air. A dress made of lace and a soul stripped bare. Death encroaching upon us in the night. A puritan’s soul, what a ghastly sight.






A Closed Book

I will never let go, I will never say goodbye, I will never get over it, no matter how much I may try. I will always think about you all the time, cause in my heart you’ll always be mine, you never wanted to hurt me, you never wanted to make me cry. We were inseparable for all these years, you always could protect me from my fears, time carries on, and our story has been cut short, our time together has run out, and it cuts me to my very core. I can’t believe it has ended this way, I will save the thought of you for another day, so until then, I’ll keep you closed away.



Throwback to when I was 17



The Calendar (Part 2)

Monday through Sunday, my past stuck on repeat, this pathetic daily reminder, will not be the death of me. I crinkle these memories, in the palm of my hand, haunted by a self doubt, that I can barely stand. The days have been marked, with nothing but regret and despair, used pages burning in the trash, watching my past flames flare, seeing them turn to ash, in front of my very eyes, they treated me like trash, so I’m watching them burn alive.



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