The wind cannot be caught.
It cannot be moulded to perfection,
scraped and gutted
and made to be something other than
what it is.
The wind is only, and always, the wind.
And you
are only
and always
you.
Flow as you will.
Control.
Lack of it.
Need for it.
Flight from it.
Control.
There will always be
hunger
for freedom.
Isn’t it funny
that for a moment
you forgot how wonderful you are.
Sweet, dancing sunshine.
Isn’t it funny.
How sweet it is, dear life.
To choose better, without handing a cup of pain to another.
To know my worth and to ask equal to its value without hesitation: a true gift from the whirling, twirling invisible world of all.
I have a choice, is what life has shown me. To kindly and carefully choose a brighter day. To say thank you but no, this does not work for me.
To seek compromise fairly
or else
gracefully capture
tomorrow’s sweet sun.
For the ones who think they are broken.
You are beautiful.
Just the way you are.
I am the beautiful breeze in the body of a woman.
I am not contained in stories of suffering.
I have always been an unrestricted choice in the making.
A sweet dream singing high in the sky, over the black and red of the fight.
I am woman, I know my worth.
I am human, I am not a story
of oppression.
Fear? she said,
feeling the fire of a soul
ready to be heard.
I dare you.
Just watch me.
Her words lumped in my gut like a blob of warm resentment.
I was late. By six-minutes.
I would be charged a full half an hour extra— her colleague had been unable to go to lunch until my arrival.
The blob grew thick within me.
Tears wobbled but did not fall.
Breath came, deeper than usual because I asked it to. Because I didn’t know what else to do with the blob she gave me.
She was right. These were the rules, however ridiculous.
The old me would have met this trigger with a puddle of me, and kept it brewing until tomorrow.
The new me saw the pointlessness of keeping the left-overs and asked my pain to disappear.
Perhaps she was only trying to save me money for next time.
And here was my brain, instantly turning her words into a beacon of shame.
Whatever the case, the moment has passed.
Then is gone.
This is now.
Trust in what you know in your heart
to be true.
It is the only way to get to where you know
you belong.
Wade me in the waters of sensuality,
sweet ocean of mine.
Show me the girl that I am.
Call to me the woman that rises
within.
