I am careful, so careful, deliberate in every moment. I am instinct dancing, seemingly in the air, hanging by a thread. My actions are encoded in the finest hidden particles of my form, conducting my every delicate movement. My limbs shine in the sun as I dance my creation into being to nourish me, and … Continue reading The Weaver
In the wreckage of my heart can I open anyway? In the disaster land of the aftermath of choices can I open anyway? In the rubble of decimated villages ravaged tribes pillaged body can I open anyway? Lying on the ground bleeding from takers conquering can I open anyway? Can I open to be torn … Continue reading To Be Torn Open
I. The sun peeks through hazy sky and she looks beautiful in grey and gold. She is like that sun persisting through the blanket of clouds that threaten a distant storm but haven't gathered enough water yet, not today. She is not striving to rule the sky, and she can't see it yet, but she … Continue reading The Sleepy Sun and Her Starry Friend
Welcome to The Flipside, to The Upside Down. Here, everything is as it should be. Here, we live inside dark clouds. There is no sun in here, no days full of light. Here the shadows are more than echoes of a past we try to fight. Here there is no floor firm under your feet. … Continue reading The Upside Down
We try so hard to individuate, differentiate, emancipate. “Please don’t let me become like you,” we say. And she cuts her hair, like I did at twelve and sixteen, and so many more times to keep myself alone in my tower, and to scare away all the princes. Sometimes one is simply more comfortable with … Continue reading The Night Queen in Daylight
It puts you out of touch with everything. And it's not as if you don't comprehend what is happening, either. That would be a blessing. But no, it's more as if there is no buffer to soften in-coming shattered glass and shrapnel, all forming a pile front-and-center in your head. You see it. It's too … Continue reading Shapeshifter (A Confessional)
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
This is my second acrostic, in poem form, first letter of each line to spell the word. The word was given to me, and I found it stirring up deeper, more conflicted material with straggling pieces still in need of healing. I wrote this about the experience of being injured by an emotional abuser who used … Continue reading On Confronting Beauty’s Shadow: Another Acrostic Challenge