Tell me this, what is life without love?
Life of love with few,
will never grow
life of love with everyone
can go on forever
can go on forever
Mama said the most important thing in life
Is to love
"Cant you see how every hair on your head, every inch of you is so deeply loved?" she said.
It is hard to comprehend this emotion.
To dive into this infinite, clear as rain concept.
I must love others as my children, as my parents, as myself.
These ideas are soft and leave me silent.
A gentle softness to the bone.
What is life without beauty and death?
I am reminded
It is okay that I will die,
because somewhere I will continue to live.
I will become rocks and berries
Water will flow from me
And I will be part of the ocean
Carbon released will enter the atmosphere
As it does with each exhale
Parts of me will vibrate with peace and love
and that is where I will be found.
As long as there is peace and love
There will be me.
With nostalgia and gratitude,
I treasure my imperfect body
This physical form
still captivates me
when I see my reflection and glance
at my delicate cheekbones and wrists
These hands of muscle and agility
Prepared to write, sew,
or strum a chord on a ukulele
My eyes are not perfect
Sometimes they wander
but how they are blue
How they reflect light
Daring and unafraid
Open to gaze into the hearts of men
Blond lashes and brows
Expose a childlike innocence
There is a softness to my smile
Rosebud lips like a cherub
Hair of the sun gods
Golden locks of curls
Shoulders, strong with the mark of a banyan tree
Clear, Stark, and vibrant
This body is not going to be around forever
The skin will wrinkle
like a grape in the sun
Moles will appear
like stamps of age
Stretch marks, cellulite, and sagging breasts
will replace my youthful childbearing form
As long as I can sit perfectly still,
To experience the greatness of peace and calm
I will feel the struggle of life
melt off my lower back
and dissolve into the floor bellow
I will celebrate and cherish
The long hugs,
The Belly laughs,
The conversations only interrupted by the need to pee.
What is life without home?
In my skin I am home
I have began to Blurr
A division
Among places
were I belong
Where I am from
Where I am home
My blue Passport
And Kentucky address
Cannot describe
This heart, taste buds, and body
Fingertips, eyes, and hair
Musical preference, inspiration, and spirit
Each have their own loyalties
To villages, cultures, and nations
Even my breath,
dreams, and energy
are far beyond the borders of land,
water, politics, and currency
Like thread in the quilt of time
I bring together patches of this and that
Dolphins and glaciers
Campfires and airports
Pumpkin seeds and shredded beets
Herbal tea and muddy feet
Mushrooms and messy hair
Wood stoves and fingertips
Rope swings on cedar branches
Teaching children under trees
Musky scents of fall leaves
lemon ginger honey tea
Mud bricks and hazelnuts
Hazel eyes in moonlight
Sandalwood incense
flannel shirts and ocean sunsets
Soft blankets and strawberries
Pulling weeds and peaches
Art galleries and ospreys
Seahorses and lake shores
Willow trees and trout
Linens hanging on the line
Drying in the wind and sun
Dogwood flowers and orange blossoms
Clean kitcken counters and drying dishes
Forrest hands and ancient eyes
Babies breath and wrinkled smiles
Vernal pools and simple machines
Morder and pestol
Basil and thyme
Reproduction and simple rhyme
Stick-shift trucks and calloused palms
leather boots and talcum powder
Jasmine oil and chamomile
bareback and straw hat
strong arms and silver hair
mother tongue and speechless lips
Branches brittle as bones
clay pots with clean water
swollen bellies and barnacles
high tide with a moon in the sky
Half full with blinking eyes
The sweet scent of a baking pie
Glass jars and soft words
Headstands and ice skates
Turmeric and coconut milk
Outdoor showers and downward dogs
Poetry and banjo music
Steam from hot mulled cider and hot springs in the snow
No order to perfection
No recipe for beauty
As you wish to be
That you already are
Dont you see?
What is life without struggle?
Never give up, Always let go
I appreciate the struggle that comes with following my heart.
The struggle in choosing one of the billions of possible directions and paths to follow
The struggle to be deliberate and confident with choice.
The struggle of drawing a map and walking the path at the same time.
The struggle of the physical form in a fluid field of energy
The struggle of choosing for myself rather than follow programed memory that yearns for superficial distractions.
The struggle to listen and surrender to the earth and myself
The struggle to break the rules and cross the lines.
Through theses struggles, fairytale dreams come true.
