The morning air whispers strongly of Autumn in my lungs. The Great impending Fall of all we no longer need. The return of moisture for the gift of breathing deeply, to smell the aromas of culminating soil and seeds, preparing for a grand sleep. The scents of raindrops caressing petals of plants who surrender their … Continue reading Autumn Whispers
This linear unfolding isn’t even for the birds cause I’m pretty sure they know the truth about time. They fly secret patterns only seen by their own kind, and unlock the scrim with reality flowing behind it. They let out the currents of the true wind before they close it up again. So they can … Continue reading The Truth About Time
I want sing it all out of me. Some don’t like the speed, but I love the tone. Something reaping while bleeding that becomes something more. A lament for the dying who are not yet dead. A lullaby for the sleep walkers to find their beds. A whaling at the grieving wall. A gut wrenching … Continue reading The Hymn of the Mother
I cannot be an untamed wind, whipping others about without a soft place to land, especially when legs are barely strong enough to stand. When you tremble in your shoes and have so much to lose, you cannot open your hands to let go or to hold on when all the silken petals are gone … Continue reading Tame the Wind
To be kin with the trees is to let their roots become your veins. Their branches, your limbs. Their leaves, your lungs. Their waters, your blood. The jungle air is moist on your skin, and you drink it in, every pore enlivened and awake, informed by all that lives. The sun is a gift your … Continue reading Tree Affinity
It's hard to reconcile being wild sometimes, the feral hunger. The seeking eyes, the instincts that lead one to survive. The shapeshifting in twilight when it’s dark enough to see more colors, and Iight enough to illuminate the way forward. Star-kissed riverbeds and spectral skies. Emerald trees and non-linear time. Magenta plumes and lavender moons. … Continue reading Wild Like Me
The treasure of water in the air and in the green. The gift unseen but felt in a breath when the lungs open fully to receive it, or upon thirsty skin awaiting reprieve from heat. The plush forest rejoices when fire comes but does not catch, for moist plants are living instead of becoming kindling. … Continue reading Keepers of the Garden
The fires drove us away when they raged and caged my breath. My family’s home in my lungs with buildings and machines, blood and bones, a million dead dreams and more. We could not have known what was in store for the forests of the world any more than the sea knew she'd be swallowing … Continue reading The Call of Fire
How I miss the wind when it kissed my skin softly in the sun. When it whipped my face as I lay on the roof of a boat gliding down the Amazon River the summer I woke up from a strange sleep. When it soothed me in Chennai when I had no brimmed hat but … Continue reading The Language of the Wind
Flashes of dying from the moving music. A bittersweet melancholy song emanating from waning cells. A setting sun, so beautiful, even though you know it will soon be swallowed by night. Thirsty trees and grasses, yellow in Summer, getting ready to let their dry appendages go, pieces that steal too much rain from their roots. … Continue reading Slow Seeds
