Tell the ones in the hills,
in the far across mountainous range.
The sky is flat here,
and flat ribbons across the blue
clouds of fury and a calm and of silk.
These are the days the sun waits for
pounces on a puff and gets taken away.
She doesn’t have to drive,
just take the ride
watch everything float away.
“Can you wind message me?”
he asked, with pre-drip eyes.
I was leaving, he knew
at the next sunrise.
I smiled so softly
even teddy bears would be proud,
as I blundered on a “yes “,
a “for sure “; to him this I vowed.
And so I would kiss the air
every evening and day,
wipe my miss tears on feathers
“I love you “ I‘d say.
What consolation,
to have the leaves wiggle back,
a grin on my cheekbones,
two feet on one track.
It wasn’t long after,
when the journey was done,
he smiled a thank you
“for the whispers “ dear Mom.
So quick to push the dead end truth into the neighbours’ garden
to walk the merry go round as it spins
upside down hanging from cloud strings
begging to snap
the seams of clean linen on the line.
oh, you don’t want to go this way, do you?
Grey problematic areas can mean the darkness of it all. Rainbow rams your orange cream smile into tea cups that sparkle salt into raw eyesight. Crayon water, it’s how jellyfish paint at the bottom of the Artic waters.
Sun blows itself onto my hair strands,
I am peace and I am wild.
Goose me more rays and I’ll pull down the whole sun. Just to feel that glow so easily won.
To hold my head
under water running,
to teach me that to strain against flow
is the watered down epitome
of self destruct.
Self sabotage.
Self infliction.
Well if I was the rainbow dressed in feathers and glue, I’d probably stick up for the gold, and undo a shoe.
It always happens like this, getting the quotes in up for sale. People making money off starting a trail.
I delight in a lot of my own being, but what happens when I realize it’s too little of you-ing and too much of me-ing.
There’s a balance to be kept, to keep the raft afloat, but do I dip too far forward and forget that I have hope?
Don’t mind me, but do. I am the type of person that’ll find your niche and your canoe. I know waves and I know water, teach me your swim and I’ll call you father.
The deep pitted ‘if I was avocado sugar feeling, racing around my blood track. Apprehensive little race car cells, being all cute and energetic. Is it better not to brace for impact? And better to embrace the nature of it? There’s beauty in the after affects but holy nugget there’s an oil tank of fear too. Why? Well. Car can’t go vroom without oil, right?
Let us lean into the uncomfortability. That vulnerability that each of us possess but yet often times do not activate or display. We are afraid of showing each other who we are.
Consider a present you are so excited to give someone. Whether you had to save four months to purchase it, or it took you six weeks to make. Think of that feeling. What if we felt the same way when we give the gift of who we are, to other people? Give your gift, the gift that only you can.
And so it is, with anyone in our lives that stay awhile and go, take something- even if so minuscule. And sometimes when we love them- or even if we don’t- we can hope they took the good. And even if they took the bad, that they will somehow do good with it- if even it is only to understand it.
To be better, having stayed awhile in our life.
