We are always going to be okay.
We really are.
Everything hurts, then feels good,
and then hurts again…
But in the end, the sun rises, and our hearts beat.
We hug, and sing in our cars,
and sip warm coffee from favorite mugs.
We love and we lose,
and smooth our hands
over cold stones in the river.
We stand naked in the pale light of dawn
and count the breath that leaves
warm from the heat of our lungs.
And feel small and alone,
a bundle of skin holding together a vast consciousness,
laying on the surface of a speck in the universe.
In my quiet life, I am always so amazed to wake up to a social media storm of well-wishes and many happy returns.
It humbles me.
I happily live in my own introvert bubble, and I lovingly create my own adventures and journeys that suit my whims. I live amongst books, movies, and my own writing and art. I occasionally step out for coffee dates, dinner meet-ups, visits, and the rare small gathering.
So when the universe grants me just a small peek at all of the lovely souls that surround me, I can only say thank you. I simply say a prayer of gratitude. Because we always forget that we touch lives everyday. No matter how quiet or reclusive we can be in our outer worlds, there are still ways that the tendrils of our souls reach out and make connections with others along the path.
I find that is the basis of why I write, and why I have decided to share what I write with others. I want to reach out of my safe place, and touch your hand, my dear readers. I want to communicate in the best way I know how; from my heart and using the voice of poetry. This is how I give back to all of the love I recieve. This is how I find beauty in the darkness and transform it into light.
I hope these offerings bring you something you need.
I love every one of you.
“The poetry of the earth is never dead.”
and rain lashes window frames.
You stand enveloped by the grey.
Peonies crash to the grass
like bloodstains on a page;
bursting like hearts
in the emptiness of space.
You can taste the ozone
like the storm’s breath
after a warm embrace.
It’s currents hold you,
but even you can escape.
You just have no desire to give chase.
But, Storms do not stay,
and the remnants of the flowers
leave behind red stains.
You’re left empty handed
with the sun in your face,
and the steamy scent of asphalt
ruining the taste
of the rain that fell into your
open mouth and
tore your mask away.