Do not try to wrap me
with your perfect edges.
Boxes are not for me,
the wind,
the stars that burst
through time,
through space,
through you.
I am all.
Do not limit me
with your unknowing.
Tag: Free spirit
Shall I be sensible
a moment?
Oh, dying to live,
dear dreary day.
Let you find me
twisted beautifully
among the berry vines.
Let you be the one
to be sensible.
Of all the labels I reject
‘a poet’
is the one golden cage
ringing true to my soul.
It holds my heart,
this stamp that tells me-
not who I am,
but what I do in the world
and how these depths consume me.
And though a label
is but a boundary with imaginary walls
in a universe unending,
a poet
I am
in words
and heart.
A poet I am,
I am.
Categories
The River I Am
The river I am.
I fall in love with the next creative thing,
and there I stay for a while (but not forever.)
When I create, I flow, I cannot be boxed.
I am sometimes a writer. Sometimes a musician. Sometimes a painter. Sometimes a poet.
But I am never just one thing, not for too long.
I am the river I am.
Always drifting, always changing.
Not neat and tidy (how hard it is for them to understand.)
Just the river I am the river I am.
The river I am.
Categories
All That I Am
I am all that I am,
and wherever I drift
on the wind of today
is as it should be,
is all that I am.
As it should be
is all that I am.
I see the world,
and I know it has been named
by those who came before me.
Who have I become
(or not become)
because of what they have shown me?
Voices claiming to guide are often sour
to my ears.
The world is alive,
delicate,
beautiful,
when my gypsy heart flies
free.
I see the world.
I name it for myself.
What I wouldn’t give
for a blanket fort
and a dinosaur cupcake.
This is the Darling Tree.
Isn’t it lovely?
And oh-my-GOODNESS.
I have an idea!
Why don’t we climb it? Together.
Just like we did when we were pipsqueaks.
Just like we did before we painted our serious faces on.
Don’t you remember it? That freedom?
Climbing to the top of the world without a care.
Gasping when we lost our footing; cackling on the ground, relieved to be still in one piece.
Surely you remember it.
We were superheroes, you and me. Chasing the bad guy to the highest branch.
We can do that again.
We can. We just have to decide it.
Climb a tree, you say. But why? Why would we do such a thing?
Who knows. Who cares! Let’s just climb.
Just so we can go home and make rings around the bathtub again.
Just so that we can say those two simple words again: Why not.
Why not.
Don’t they sound like a river running wild? Don’t they sound…
Free?
Yes. They do. So come on! Let’s fling on our capes and fly.
Up to the rooftops of the Darling Tree.
Oh. And don’t worry. I’ll pack supplies.
We could be gone a while. xx
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