I awoke as if beckoned,
pulled by some cosmic string out the door
and into the fresh, sea air

my sleepy eyes struggled to focus,
but when they did,
I was mesmerized

for, sometime as I slept,
something magical had happened –
night had become as smooth as a mirror,
the entire canopy of stars shining with ebullience above,
casting a perfect reflection across the surface of the water

it looked as though there were now two heavens, one above and one below,
nothing but a sliver of silver-blue separating them

‘where do I stand?,’ I wondered,
night’s silence and purity louder than any waves I'd ever heard,
its stillness heavy with presence,
holding in the warmth of its palm something I needed to know

I listened, but no words were heard,
there was only the stillness,
but in that stillness, there was a luminescence from within,
one just a bright as the sacred, mirrored stars, its tentacles reaching from one excitation to the next, energy to energy,
reaching out to commune,
to converge

it was as though all the most disparate elements of my biography were at last knitting together,
all that I have loved and known in this world stitching themselves up,
forming a never-ending tapestry of constellation,
becoming one thing

I felt alive,
more alive than I’ve ever felt,
more awake,
my mind and heart humbly able to function at the uppermost limits of their capacities,
seeing and understanding everything,
as though watching it all from the highest imaginable ridge

except, there I was,
mere mortal,
standing not upon a ridge,
but somewhere inside the sliver of silver-blue

content with whatever the heavens had planned

-image via Pinterest, source unknown

Hope’s Garden

she spent years pushing away
the things she wanted more than anything;
wanting them too much scared
the hell out of her,
because sometimes people lose themselves
in wanting too much, 
at least, that's what she thought, 
that's what she'd learned

but the only way to know, 
the only way to find out, was to leap,
to want something so badly,
it nearly made her crack with hope,
to risk,
to grab on with both hands,
plant it in the center of her heart 
and see if it blooms

so, she planted,
and planted 

she found out that she didn't lose herself
in the wanting, not at all;
she found herself in the hope

for, in hope, was her truth

-image via Pixabay


I’m gonna leap, 
I’m gonna run with eyes wide open, 
and leap, 
right off the edge,
no trepidus toes or anxious looking down 

I’m just gonna leap,
even though I don’t know where I’ll land

Truth is, I’m not even sure if I will land,
but that doesn’t really matter

I’m gonna leap and seek, 
and if I don’t find,
I’ll keep on leaping and seeking, 
and see where my heart leads me

Because, funny thing is, 
I’m quite certain that finding it isn’t even the point of it

I don’t even know what it is!

But I do know,
it’s all about the leaping

So, I’m just gonna leap,
and I’ll know it when I feel it

I might just feel it, 
as soon as my toes leave the earth…

-image via Pixabay


for as long as she could remember, 
she’d felt it,
even though she wasn’t superstitious,
she couldn’t deny it, 
this unwelcome, 
yet eerily comforting presence,
signs of its existence ever-present,
but no more so than in vulnerable situations,
especially when her feelings
were so big she thought she’d crack 

sometimes, it consumed her;
when she most wanted to hide,
she’d feel it in the pulsing pressure of unfallen tears behind her eyes,
in the ball of rubber bands tangled
and bouncing in her belly,
in the twisted tightening behind her ribcage, the anvil resting on her heart,
in the shallow breathe,
because anything deeper would make her burst,
collapsing her into herself

it was most present,
and most potent, 
as this toxic voice inside her head,
one which constantly told her
she didn’t belong,
that she wasn’t enough,
that she owed something she could never quite repay,
was expected something she could never live up to,
that the world must be railing against her,
this voice loudest when the world seemed to quiet around her, 
when she desperately attempted to slow,
to try and savor it, 
her pillow’s other side never cool,
and her mind never quite at rest 

it was a blurred existence, 
a constant feeling of living in a black mist,
one she couldn’t shake no matter what she tried,
no matter how much she laughed and smiled and pleased on the outside

she’d tried to hide from it
by pretending it wasn’t there, 
by speeding through her days at 100mph, trying not to blink

and yet, here it was, still,
a backpack of lead upon her back, 
making her feel as if she were
living in a spiral, 
every action destined to repeat itself

it took 40 years of this sinister ghost chasing her,
40 years of futile running,
years upon years of spiral and repeat, 
until she finally slowed, 
until she looked with unclouded eyes,
startled when she saw her own reflection

all that time,
she’d been haunted by herself,
the weight of regret, 
a relentless stream of self-deprecation,
and even punishment,
obscuring every decision,
every interaction,
every day

afraid she’d become the epitome of everything she’d cursed, 
she’d become just that in the running,
the illusion of control causing her to fall further and further out of its grasp,
making her want to scream until there was no voice left to hear, 
her fear of vulnerability so strong,
it had begun to shroud the hope in her eyes

until today

-image found on Pinterest, source unknown 


img_6490Daddy told me a story
About how the kingdom was won
Grandma spun a tale
About making something outta none

My teacher began a fable with
Once upon a time
Mommy fed me a saga
About how oppressing women is crime

I listened to their stories
Absorbed every word
But I watched how they behaved
And all the words got blurred

Words are very powerful
But in my impressionable youth
Why couldn’t anyone
Just show me the truth?

~photo credit