Sweet aching quiet.
Soft night, curled up beside me.
I know you.
I know your fragile whispers, well.
Categories
Tag: Spirit
Categories
The Christmas Spirit
The Christmas spirit never dies.
The Christmas spirit is forever and always,
so why put it away?
Do we not become our best selves
whilst wrapped in the spirit of Christmas?
Me thinks we do.
And so it is
I ask again:
why do we put it away?
Why do we put
the love
away?
Categories
Sweet Eternity
Oh, the heat
that I see
that I feel
that I know.
I will be the flame
to my own fire.
I will light the path
of burning
sweet
eternity.
Categories
The Deep Of Me
You may name it what you will.
But the ocean will always smell like
what is beneath the name.
It will always look like
what is beneath the name.
And it will always feel like my very own soul,
(the underside of my name.)
You may name us both what you will.
But the ocean will always be beyond it all.
And so will the deep of me.
Living carefully and beautifully,
I know I am home.
Categories
We Are The Poets
We are the poets.
The ones who listen to the bones of the earth.
The ones who feel the wind,
who know the wind,
who are the wind.
The bridge to the aching quiet.
We build it
and we travel its winding path,
searching for more than what we see,
the poets.
We are the poets.
We are the song of aching life.
Categories
The Lonely Soul
The lonely soul
is a beauty.
She is quiet,
so quiet
as she whispers her way
through the noise,
through the dark,
through the rain.
Sing a sweet song to her.
Call to her
and she shall hand you
a soft and thoughtful dream.
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.
Categories
Grateful.Tired.
Life is busy and overwhelming at the moment. I’m better for the tools I’ve found to bring me back to softness (walking, gratefulness, meditation) but it’s a mammoth slog I’ve been through.
And a mammoth slog that lay ahead.
My husband and I are merging two houses into one. House work must be done. Small children must be both survived and parented beautifully, given the monstrously high standards I set for myself.
And I need to write, or create (more than I have been) or I might die. No one is dramatic here. No one at all.
I’ve never been through a period of life that has been so truly exhausting, from all angles, for so long. A million different balls hover in the air around me and I do not know which one to reach for in order to catch it and bring it down.
Not only that, but my spirit is quite literally breaking free from my body, shouting (well, more buzzing and glowing, really) to be let out, to be set free. From something. From everything. The energy that moves through my body so often brings such beauty to my life, but I can also hear it asking to be apart of something more. I wish I had the time, clarity, and grit to give it what it is asking of me.
I’m grateful.
I’m tired.
And it’s tough. And it’s oddly beautiful.
Categories
I Became The Sky
I could have stared at the sky for hours.
It was glowing.
Grey and orange; still against the crashing sea.
But it wasn’t the vision of the sunset that moved me.
It was the feel of it
within me.
So calm, I became the sky.
Peaceful.
Still.
And quietly waiting
for nothing at all.
