we, the dis- joint- ed children of stolen peoples living on stolen lands claiming and re-claiming until we can find ourselves again whole
April 3rd, 2015
I want to give myself to the earth commit to her lessons learn softness and openness generosity and balance when to retreat and when to blossom
Sea Poem II
I surrender myself to the sea the salt of infinite lives washing over me I can forgive a little sand lingering in my hair
Love Like a Mango
Dec 22, 2014 There was a fullness to our love like that mango just within your reach unblemished and warm falling straight into your palm eaten under the shade of the tree juice dripping down your elbow temporary in its bliss, but perfect in that moment.
on blooming:
lessons i learned from the pavement: life continues to bloom; even through cracks in the concrete.
To The Stump In my Garden
Day 7- Take a walk until you find a tree you identify with, then write a poem using the tree as a metaphor for yourself or your life. To the stump in my garden that has begun to sprout Mere days after its branches have been shorn: Teach me whatever lessons you have learned How to give thanks for your still solid roots And how to recalibrate the hardened fibres of your bark And make life once more.
Back Home
(Lyrics from Back Home by Andre Tanker) i went away / i leave an i come back home / i come back to stay / i must see meh way It feels as though every time I leave, it takes longer to come back. first six months, then nine, now ten– as if they have been grooming me to leave forever. I ask myself how people could leave for years and years and never look back? not even once? But the truth is, it gets easier. What is one year more when you’ve been gone for five? or ten?…
Moonshine
Moonlight pours through my window and reminds me that while the days are too dark the nights can still be bright.
Salt
I dreamt of salt and woke with my mouth watering. I dreamt of salt and awoke in a blanket of sweat and the scent of the sea clogging my nostrils. I dreamt of salt and woke up bitter.
Letting The Sunshine In
Their makeshift curtains are visible from the path And my windows are stark in comparison Too high to show into my soul Where my bare windows make more sense: That heat pooling in at 4 in the afternoon Falls directly on my sorrows And is the only thing that reminds me of home.