My Mojo


I'm pretty sure I cried all my mojo 

down the shower drain, 

but there may be some sloshing around 

deeper than my tear ducts. 

If I stay in this place much longer, 

I may fall off the edge of insanity. 

I need to chase my mojo down, 

conjure it up. 

Something bubbled just under my skin 

when my feet hit the asphalt

for a quick run.

Music hit my eardrum,

pushing me past the urgency of now. 

Linkin Park reminded me, 

it all comes back to me in the end.

Pink empowered me, 

IÕm still a Rockstar.

Queen Latifah pumped my swagger, 

ladies first, IÕm divine. 

I cranked it when Eminem told me 

that this was my moment.

Running uphill, sweat dripped into my eyes,

slid down my back. 

I wiped my brow and kept going.

Mojo refilled.


© Rachel Medina


Bio: Rachel Medina lives in the Pacific Northwest where she works in healthcare by day and wordsmithing by night. She writes poetry and prose, both long and short. When she is not writing, Rachel enjoys knitting, coffee, and running.