Feb 13

Spirit Mother

If you dig your fingers into the soil,
feel the cold and damp Earth,
you can grasp onto Her hand.
If you bend with the great oaks,
hearken ye their wind song,
you can paint Her vast sky.
If you crumble with the harvest leaves,
carry the weight of your sisters,
She will carry you as you fall.
If you soak in the hot summer sun,
let it comfort your spirit,
Her love will shine through.
If you dig, bend, crumble, and soak,
then She will mother you.
Jan 29

Playing The Part

At night, I’m terrified of falling asleep
because I don’t know what horrors are inside.
I may be young, but I can understand them.
I dress in dark colors and wear chains and chokers.
I feel so small in such an enormous universe.
I want to play the part of a human being,
but I also want to become the goddess of the stars.

I’m in love with the rain as it cools on my skin,
the petrichor that follows, and the returning sun,
but my heart spins like a weathervane in a storm.
My mind is a chaotic clatter of voices and sounds.
I am the commander of a thousand soldiers.
I am the brittle stem that carries the dead leaf.
My elegant and long fingers were created to create.
My tongue was pierced and your heart, it will pierce.

I pinch my cheeks so that they may smile wider,
but I am not always happy. I cry so I may cry again.
I am the drawings and writing on painted walls.

Jan 03

Shadows Through The Veil

They’re peeking from behind the great grey pines. Their trunks seem as though they’re tall enough to reach to High Heaven. I see them in my dreams. When I close my eyes, they peer at me with their large spotlights. They move gracefully and quietly. They’re shadows, but they feed on me. The longer I stare, the closer they are. There are no birds in this place of silence, only a soft thumping. Foliage scatters across the forest floor, but there is nothing but death. Death, he who lurks at me, he who cannot be seen the way I see the shadows, crumbles beneath my bare feet as I walk through the veil between what is and what is not. A vibration tickles my body. It pulses like a heartbeat and paralyzes me. The further I walk, the harder it is to move. The harder it is to move, the closer I am to its source. The closer its source, the less I am. Whispers reverberate off of rough bark and return to me.

Dec 05

Constellation Kaleidoscope

The world is a kaleidoscope
and I'm peering through
with one squinted eye.
I hold it tightly
with just one hand
and I see stars.

All I see are stars
and they form a kaleidoscope.
They're right in my hand,
but they're slipping through.
I grasp on tightly,
but they've escaped my eye.

I've blinded my one eye.
I no longer see stars.
I keep holding on tightly,
but this endless kaleidoscope
is not what is seen through,
but what is held in my hand.

In the palm of my hand
is the bluest stray eye
which gazes right through
this constellation of stars.
Beauty in this kaleidoscope
is rarely held onto tightly

and in my heart, tightly
it holds a place. Her hand
takes apart this kaleidoscope
and captures my eye
which cannot see the stars.
Her love pierces through.

All that is seen through,
Dec 04

Origami

His hands straighten out the curling edges
and he folds it carefully in half,
then into fourths.
His fingers move, touching and pressing
and he pushes on the creases,
avoiding the points.
I sit with my legs crossed and watch
as his eyes focus downward,
dilated and fixed.
My hands fold across my lap and rest
as his move and work diligently,
cautiously pinching.
My fingers intertwine together –warm,
and my heart is thumping,
thrusting about.
​My blood rises and I forget to breathe
as he makes another fold
and flips it over.
My chest hitches and my face is hot
as I try not to look at him,
but I risk a glance.
He leans forward, his shoulders tense
and I see he’s anxious
as he presses.
My shoulders grow stiff, my palms sweat,
and I don’t want to go,
but I get in the car.
His voice is soft and it trembles a little
as he says the words
Nov 15

Somewhere Else

She's always somewhere else.
She doesn't want to stay put.
She wants to go outside.
She wants to go explore.
The world is hers,
and she's claiming it.
The world is there,
not tucked up in here.
She's always somewhere else.
She doesn't want to rest.
She wants to go skating.
She wants to go dancing.
The world is hers,
and she's claiming it.
The world is there,
not tucked up in here.
She's always somewhere else.
 
Nov 11

Liar

There's no love in your stone heart.
Keep lying to yourself,
but you don't know how to love.
I don't care what excuse you have,
nothing can excuse what you did.
Keep lying to yourself.
I may be young, but I have sense.
​Keep lying to yourself,
but you don't know what love is.
I don't care why you're so cold,
nothing can excuse what you did.
Keep lying to yourself.
I may be a child, but I can feel.
Keep lying to yourself,
but you don't know yourself.
I don't care how you grew up,
nothing can excuse what you did.
Keep lying to yourself.
I may be your child, but I'm not yours.
Keep lying to yourself,
but you don't know me at all.
I don't care if you're sorry,
nothing can change what you did.

Keep lying to yourself.
Nov 08

This Night Of Restless Sleep

I gotta be somewhere tomorrow,
but my head is feeling a bit baked.
This room is way too cold tonight.
Fields of soil spread bare, raked

in this night of restless sleep.

I gotta go back to work tomorrow,
but my limbs are feeling ached.
This house is way too cold tonight.
Days of laughter die away, faked

in this night of restless sleep.

I gotta wake up early tomorrow,
but my throat must be slaked.
This road is way too dark tonight.
Snowfalls sprinkle down, flaked

in this night of restless sleep.
Oct 07

White and Silver Feathers

White and silver feathers float over the water.
They drift together, stuck to the surface,
never free. I must pick them away
the way petals are picked from daisies.
The Earth is tucked into a blanket,
warm and comforting, but also dark,
and white and silver feathers drift down.
They land on my lashes like thick snowflakes
and I hold them in the palms of my hands.
They're light and soft to the touch; pure. 
These feather flakes, these silver threads,
these memories that tickle my nose,
are the droppings of restless little birds
that, with their belly feathers wet,
entered Heaven, never to return to me,
never to nest in my feeble skeleton,
never to weep again.
 
Sep 11

Love In Chrysalides

I fall in love again and again
With the sound of rustling branches,
Reaching for interaction,
Caressing the sky in passing.
I fall in love again and again
With the color of their flaky bark,
Rough and a little jagged,
Dry and rigid on the edges.
I fall in love again and again
​With the taste of maple and honey,
Sweet at first salvation,
Oh so smooth on my tongue.
I fall in love again and again,
Again
And again,
In my chrysalis of life.

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