wildfire
cover my body like a prayer
connections
the ocean hums a sweet song
rivers of song
! Rumi,
**TAROT**,
*Mermaids*Sirenitas*Undines*La Mer*,
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swim
silhouettessometimes the wind blows soft on my skin like change, hair standing chilled and inspired for a new direction, hands heat and ache to touch, something, anything, to receive this strength, power emanating centered through my belly to connect. sometimes i breathe in and know. sometimes i ride my bike at night and sing in my own languages, soaking the air around me like prayer, psalm, chant, swing low sweet chariot, rock me high and roll me above what i dreamed, for the river gleamed a new possibility ever since i said yes and jumped into wider and wilder expanses, southern cities and tall stance, my body rhymes with this choice, resounding, harmonizing, blending with effortless thunder and lightening, strength and solidity. sometimes words come like this and i pour, roar, rock, roll, soar, soul. sometimes the moon is full and i am beautiful in my own mirror, lips soft and perfect, ovulation, chocolate, and me, here, after all this time, a waking dream that i find and treasure like little birds, newly flown and sweet sweet wind holy blown across fields to these hands, open open understand. sometimes everything comes together like palms pressed into hearts and the dust settles and the sun sets and this is what we have built, the yeses, stacked up like homes and stories we will read to our children, remember when we learned what trust is, and patience, and faith in what is true, and love, in its aches and its glory and its stretching threads and its survival, from the first time, up on the balcony, you saw me and knew and nine years later we can finally say i love you and not leave it hanging. sometimes it all makes sense and i breathe this knowing in deep and grateful, crying and laughing at the same time because it is all so beautiful and right. |
love
i love the handful of the earth you are.
us
spokenwords welcomed as chants spill down my tongue in a silent car this is by far the most i've spoken poems written by my own rhyme in this time of transformation of celebration of flesh and skin of thinking everything all through again to see where do i want to be how can my wings be free and my heart OPEN unbroken and whole i feel the pull inside surrounded by roses and the bee the me i love clearly she's dearly precious and alive when she gives herself room to thrive.
joy
where there is love there is no questionwhatever you're doing is the most beautiful thing
currents
the stones have seen so much rain
Mon, March 24, 2008 - 10:16 PM
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vivid green moss grows between their edges up their carved archway sides into their open stone eyes over their wings like a constant wind dried chlorophyll on the backside wingtips how many doorways can you walk through like this how many days did they spend carving a rock a tree a bone into a diety god goddess spirit angel to watch over to protect wearing a checkered sarong and a fresh flower offering white rice pressed to the forehead. we met a man the other day who has spent four years of his life carving a wooden statue that is one and a half times as tall as carson (and he's still got another large wing and garuda tail piece to go). i have not found the words in a long time. i forgot my voice, like this. the one that can rhyme and convey the one that i love the one that i share open the window one the sweet poetry and flow. now, it is looking back it is looking out onto terraced green rice fields deep with one-o-clock in the afternoon rain water and duck footprints and dragonflies with bright red bodies and intricate effective irrigation systems and tromping through the trail rivers after a rain storm it is frangipani and red hibiscus placed over the ear rice plants maturing mantras to bring on the rain mantras to keep the rain at bay mantras to raise us up mantras for the rice and prayers prayers (everyday) prayers it is the same shoes taking me everywhere it is a little brown freckel on the palm of his hand waking to the sunrise wasps flying through our wall windows red ants smiles from everyone genuine balinese.
unfolding
.
simple or complex or tangled
alive
.loving fearlessly is the bravest thing in this world
coast
})i({
i wish i could put the swaying splendor
grace
the truthGender
Female
Age
27
Location
about me
like a ray of sun, like new words, like soulful songs, like dawn and dew and new beginnings, like roiling flames, like the ocean's salty wind, like footprints in sand remembered, like all the world's honey, like a kiss on your forehead, like strong commitment, like berries and oats, like grace, like angels, like essence expanding and filling crevices and pools of who i am, like dreams awakened, like a dance, like reunion, like source, bright and golden, expanding and holy, real and here now, ready.
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compassion
this space is no longer empty
the space between all i used to know
muse |
