Poem

  • Stay Home

    The soft hum of an opening heart. Barely a whisper. Barely a moment of life unfiltered, but enough. Closed eyes, whisper. Come home. Stay home. Continue reading

  • Rolling

    It is how I am today. This darling tumble weed, rolling slowly down the precious hill they call life. I no longer search for a deeper wind, to roll faster or better… than what? I simply roll, and sigh, and… Continue reading

  • Cruel Deception

    What is this sorrow? It is a shared siren wailing through the silver of our human chain. But darling, you say. You must smile, you must find the joy beyond the day. The heart cries when the heart cries. A… Continue reading

  • Coming back

    I must come back. Back home, once again to the depths. To find a home in the world and beneath it, in the deep, where I belong, and do not belong. I must find home in both the deep and… Continue reading

  • There She Was

    Boom. Like a strike of light through the sky, there she was. After so long, staring into the empty space ahead, wishing to go back to the safety of her silence. It hurt to speak. Too deep, she ran, her… Continue reading

  • Open

    I am here, darling heart. And I allow you to open to the natural unfolding of life. Continue reading

  • Deep Ones

    I choose this kind love. These stars in the trees beyond the river’s glowing fog. This heaven that slips through the layers of my humanity. Life is precious to the whispering deep ones. Continue reading

  • I am I

    The swell of a new wave approaches and how beautiful it feels, rising in my chest. I see you, world, and I tell you: I need not change, though I do baffle you so. I need not shift to suit… Continue reading

  • Someone, Somewhere

    Beneath the surface, gripped by the ripples of life gone by. It is a sad softness, and there are cold lashes of fear, set into the marrow of my bones. Take this tender heart, I whisper. To someone. Somewhere. Continue reading

  • Free

    I mourn the turning of time. Shall I clutch at the moment, or the passing days gone by? Or shall I be free to stroll the fields, with you? Free to know the wind as an ever changing friend. Continue reading