Some days,
I can’t be here for you.
Some days
I need you,
to hold my softness
and let me fall.
It is a beautiful drift of snow
that feathers the earth of me.
A gentle spring breeze
beyond the strength I’ve tried so hard to be.
And I lay me down to feel it all.
I lay me down to feel it all.
She is the golden skin
by lamplight.
She is not the beauty
they see
in her face,
her eyes,
her hair.
She is glorious
alone.
Without the eyes of others.
Oh, this is the depths of desire!
How wild winds do blow
within the halls of this longing.
Lingering aches
clutching at far off stretches of my truth.
Built over lifetimes,
tasted this day:
I see you, raging humanity.
How hungry you’ve been
for my soul,
my flesh,
my fire.
Oh, but darling.
The wind will take you, anyway.
Ain’t no fighting the wind, darling.
Ain’t no fighting the wind.
Good morning, sun.
And good morning to the girl
who sits quietly and smiles,
amused by it all.
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.
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.
And then she roared again.
Just because.
So you’ve forgotten what it feels like
to unfold yourself,
to undress, her soul
in your hands
like the dream
she was always meant to be
for you.
These hours of twilight.
How soft they have been,
like rain on a dusty summer road.
Here I am.
A woman, at last.
Home in the truth
of this soft heart of mine.
A rose of musk in bloom
this day.
And every day beyond.
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