tide.

my love, my love
your heart is sore
and your voice is soft and low

you curl up with her
and tumble words back and forth
gathering time with urgency
and sorrow.

i cannot stop this tide from moving out.
my feet reach for the edge of the sea and
still she is carried by the wind,
out and away with the pull of the moon.
her deep, rhythmic breathing
soothes us to sleep
and we pull the windows up to hear her song
again
then, again
and forever.

I cannot say goodbye.
my mouth trembles like a moth
caught by a suddeness of light,
battering these useless wings
against the florescent air of night.

international day of peace.

i said i would
so i did
so i am

my belly is tight and my grief is gripping. something like the thing that lived inside me for most of my life.
but only a whisper of it.
thankfully.

today,
i humbled myself. I let my fear slide away and decided to open and see what might happen.
and in the din of construction, the zoom of traffic,
with rusted leaves trailing down the soft breezes,
i leaned into myself and
then, others.
i fell weightless into openings and found my hands held
and my heart widened.
the water was cool and there i was.
in a circle.
part of something.
and there my sweet soul, heart of hearts shone in the sunshine and lifted his dancing arms to the sky
and
there we were,
all of us,
testing out a way to laugh,
to connect,
to dance together.

in peace.
and stillness
and motion
and peace.

and love.


vance monument.

beginning to gather

start today.
a word. a phrase.
something to add to the center of the storm.
add a circle of people standing, bending at the knees with each swaying breath.
collapse and reach in a series of discoveries.

everyone has a story.
and someone else can speak it for the witnessing.

offer this now
and mend the small tear in this part of your heart,
mend the small tear in this part of the world.