It has come to this: I write Post It notes to me And they say things like ‘You are enough’ and stuff like ‘You’ve got this, you have got this’.
Aching
A dying cat sprints Over the last finish line Innately hopeful Heart breakingly valliant And blind sided in defeat.
The Massage
Oh Danny Boy by panflute Pipes Bali into Westpoint While I toy with radical Acceptance like a Speech that someone else has penned For me to speak it’s tennet.
A tanka to you
I don’t know if you ….Love like I do and if you… Give love, being known – and do… You take up much space in time? Or could you hold space in […]
A tanka to me
Crushed by massive waves That break as I stand naked And lit up with sun Warming up and slow baking My cheeks and arms and shoulders My body soft, heart bolder.
