Category: Poetry
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Where, on Earth, is Your Majesty?
Where sits the sense of self that will not allow itself to be treated so? The flame lit from the original spark that chose to bring such a creature breathing, crying, screaming into this world, that you now allow to be extinguished by one so low, where is it? Where are you?
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Love Affair
I want us to have a love affair. You and me. How about it, my love? I’m inviting you to show up suited, in your tightest emotions thoughts, buttoned up over that raw and wounded chest. Come, let me unclothe you, let me help you out of this world where you are unhappy not
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Loiter
Loiter, my friend loiter. Allow motion to have its wicked way around you, any way it so pleases as you hang out inconspicuous and free. The moon in its shared bed of stars and dark is proficient at curving this way and that complete at all times. Luna, my friend is a hussy of the
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We Are All A Collection Of Short Stories
we are all a collection of short stories made to look whole one fluid, linear, looping tale. within each story no chapters only worlds self sufficient enough to undo whatever follows or precedes. we are all a collection of short stories and, loved ones people will borrow needed passages recognised sentences, will see mirrored parts
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Midwife
You have been asked to birth greatness and your first response, is to cry out for another. Another person, another woman, another soul. You have been called to birth brilliance and so you search for a wise feminine; a she sublime, a she capable, a she strong enough to bear the weight of power surging within you. You look around for
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Rest
Rest, is nourishment. It is not checking emails, messages, or sitting quietly to ponder, the 50 things to do later. They aren’t urgent, anyway. Once the fear is removed, the panic, the ‘what ifs’, all that is left is choice, to do the thing now, or later. Rest, is the master of later. Rest, is
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Don’t Trust The Process
Don’t trust the process. Trust the stillness that lives in the spaces between. Trust the walk from your bed to the shower, the moments between plating your food and eating it, the life between asking for your dream and receiving what you really need. + Don’t trust the process. Because that is only about trusting
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Homesick
We are all homesick. We are all longing for the place to belong, where we may show up whole and seen by the group. Releasing all the ways we water down to fit in, discarding the shadows and the decoys, we have created to throw others off our scent. We are all homesick for the tribes