involun
09.14.23 • on moving grief
a surge of beauty
a surge of beauty
involuntary, quiet bursts
of joy. the bliss of body
connection flows from within,
spiraling. outward from
inner Knowing
to fingertips to sitsbones.
rising through an articulate flick
of the wrist. It guides
my extension from heartstrings
reaching through nailbeds.
a gesture of reclamation.
06.25.23 • pillars of salt
sunsoaked in the sea
sunsoaked in the sea
gentle breeze,
and finding ease.
lapping waves.
rolled and lit, haze.
numbing,
rumbling heads move.
encroaching on the thin strip
warm white sands,
as lightning flashes,
two feet sink in,
anchoring
the scent of salt
static noise, constant
sweetness of leaves,
the breeze is cooler now,
the waves still waving.
overhead, they lurch,
teetering.
the last bit of heat dissipates
sharp in my periphery.
weighted with choice,
my pounding chest.
shears in hand. pruning the edges, a life
of archaic ruins. freshly dead, mangled
bushes of last season—a season of Despair.
dense bramble scrapes and gnaws
at my eager knuckles.
silk gloves of Softness—my weapon—
stained with dark juices. the remains,
unworthy of grandma’s blackberry jam.
suddenly, acid green
undergrowth appears. catching
my eye, the vibrant Rebirth.
I weep for her quietly, tenderly.
04.18.23 • re: Purpose
the things you take with you.
the things you take with you.
yoga playlists, breathe
into breath.
sunset smiles. dirt track, miles and miles.
bones of harsh truths hidden,
in the desert. a treasure to curiously seek.
flowers, wild. dense rain floods
collecting tears. there is no difference
this cathartic cleansing. expressing,
oh, so many fears. declarations of love,
true
and pure. howling at the impending
darkness. How To: Heal Your Soul,
one small death at a time.
