I loved you.
I really ******* loved you.
I bled myself dry for you,
gave up my power to you.
I got intimate with anxiety - for you.
Some days,
all I swallowed was the words I wanted to say to you,
and **** did they fill me up.
But somehow
I still shrunk - for you.
You have this way of making things small and
silent.
But loud are the lies you told,
the secrets you kept,
the words you said to her on repeat in my head.
Loud is the sound of her name coming out of your mouth
and I pray you never forget the taste of my love on your tongue,
how pure and sweet it was.
I was left with bitterness
but I vow to not that pass that on.
Loud is the holiness of when I said,
“I forgive you,”
and I meant that with my whole chest,
still tender and swollen.
You are the snake,
but now my body holds your poison.
I vow to not pass it on.
I know how to make myself clean again,
how to regenerate from the death of the woman I was
when I was in love.
And please,
I beg,
keep that love.
I know that you need it,
so void of peace and full of demons.
Keep that love,
because even though you drained my cup,
I’m steady refilling it back up.
Loud is my reclamation-
it’s my turn to speak now.
I hold my peace,
I let you in and thought you robbed that from me.
But I was wrong-
you didn’t take anything.
Never loved me hard enough,
but **** did you break me.
But you see,
the way I put myself back together is biblical,
my blood a scripture,
and I pray when it leaves me each month that you will too.
My dark days are over -
I know how to alchemize grief,
fed my demons so they no longer have to feed off me.
I know you can’t say the same
so I pray for you, too.
When the morning sky brought me to tears
I breathed in that beauty and blew a kiss of it to you.
I pray that my love lives inside of you
so you never forget what a great woman is
and learn to respect it,
honor it,
cherish it,
treasure it,
Because this one -
she’s gone with the wind.
Loud is the echo of my grandmother’s death bed words it carries,
“Danny, it’s all love,”
and I held that standard.
Pulled the knife from my back
and laid that weapon to rest,
held back the urge to drive it into your chest,
I vow not to pass this pain back to you.
There’s already so many wounds,
and I tried to lick them clean.
All they did was infect me.
Loud are the heaving cries you will never hear,
the moments of ecstatic release you will never feel.
But louder,
louder is my remembrance of what it means to be loved-
Dear Danny,
The way you love could put the Sun to shame.
The way you love is something holy.
Dear Danny,
To be loved by you is to know some type of God exists.
Dear Danny,
The way you love,
with ferocity and grace,
let it always be your standard.
Dear Danny,
Your love is the loudest thing you carry,
don’t ever let anyone make you silent.
Dear Danny,
don’t worry…
I love you in all the ways he never could.
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 8:37 PM UTC
I’m somewhere in a perfect limbo
Between yes and no
It has stopped raining
And the birds cry out
In beautiful language
I will never know
I soak myself in their melody
But the sun is not out yet
It is gray,
(Her favorite color)
And there is a lightness
When I realize
I don’t have to hold onto anything
I am not new to this
My heart is tender,
Like how you pound steak with a mallet
I know well the sting of the salt
And I like myself almost raw, too
I have so much room
And I love to let it be filled
With the after scent of you on my sheets
That never stays long
Then I look at him,
Digging feverishly into the Earth
For that intoxicating scent
And I see myself
Head down-
The hair on my neck like razors-
Scratching until my nails are stained with tiny remnants
Of where I came from-
Earth and stone,
A body in the river’s widened mouth
Whispering
Screaming to me
To please sit here longer
And love with ferocity
Until the sun comes out
Apr 10, 2024
Apr 10, 2024 at 8:59 PM UTC
I haven’t been able to make my bed
But I ate breakfast
I haven’t been able to clean out my car
But I haven’t faltered on taking my dog to hike, play, explore
I haven’t been able to organize the shelf in my room
But I rubbed lavender tallow deep beyond my skin
I have been in this threshold
Between what can wait and what matters
I haven’t been able to even think about looking for another job
But I put out a book of poetry
(And it feels so small an act)
I hold the standard high,
But differently these days.
I am cluttered,
I can’t hold onto many things for too long
But there are things, my dog, rebellion, prayer, that no longer need holding.
I held them so long we merged.
They are marrow, cells, blood.
I haven’t been choosing to do those things,
actually.
I am able - without question I could pick up the pile of clothes in the corner of my room
and fold my socks.
But it just doesn’t matter enough.
There is weight-
Things to cry about,
and I have to, I must, call my mom if I am going to be okay.
So my bed, the pile of clothes, my car, can exist as they are.
There is no harm in mess when it can be cleaned later.
But my body, my dog, my heart, the genocides,
Require me.
So much feels fickle in the face of the grief and love I bear.
The grief
I want to plant.
I want to get my hands ***** in its power.
I want it to know my name.
The love-
Oh the love.
I cannot tell you of its expanse.
I can only bring you into the flood,
Show you the mountain,
Let you feel the sun.
Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 10:48 PM UTC
It is not my new year,
no, no, no.
I am still unripe.
I am still gestating,
cocooned,
quietly dreaming in mid afternoon,
waiting for the stars to tell me my name.
I am still,
I am in grief laced with longing.
Do you not remember
you
are
Nature?
The light is only slowly starting to return.
The trees know not to sprout buds
the birds are still south
it is not time to sew seeds.
Nature is resting.
Please do not find discouragement
on the other side of a failed resolution.
Find understanding
that your biology is still clinging to any remnant
of your ancestors
of midwinter days spent fireside
eating warm stew and
bread with extra extra butter.
I hope you still eat stew
and pass on the salad.
Please let the crock *** simmer all day.
Please sip warm mulled cider
and sleep in,
sleep in.
I grieve those who chastise the Sun for setting
so early.
Is that which gives us life
not allowed to rest,
to sleep in,
sleep in,
and go to bed early?
I grieve those who see Winter as one
who consumes everything
and gives nothing.
I think
she is so beautiful in her barrenness,
in her slumber.
I have an unparalleled love
for when it is cold and dark
and the kitchen smells of my dad’s
Portuguese fish chowder
and I can go to bed early,
and sleep in,
sleep in.
Jan 2, 2024
Jan 2, 2024 at 7:21 PM UTC
Dear Dream,
Many versions of this letter have been writing themselves in my head for weeks now.
It started when I ended it about three weeks ago.
Told him we'd be better off friends.
I know that's an abrupt start but your words are on replay,
"I'll never forget when you said you're painfully loyal."
So I couldn't say this without you knowing I'm not with him anymore.
I am still painfully loyal.
It's the Taurus, ruled by Venus.
So when I love,
I love passionately.
My Moon is in Cancer - zero degrees.
I'm as Cancer Moon as Cancer Moon can be,
so when I love,
I love with the weight of the Ocean.
I've learned that I don't let go and that is not a weakness.
I make space for everything to be a part of me.
My Venus is in Gemini.
They say that means my way of loving is dynamic-
does that give sense to the two voices at war in my head?
One believes in love that withstands,
one fears being abandoned.
And my Mars,
my Mars in is Aries.
Could it be more suitable?
I am headstrong in the planet of action and passion-
warrior-like, not war-like.
When I love something,
when something ignites me,
I must move towards it.
And so when you are far away,
I still look for feathers in my dreams.
I think about the night we both knew we loved each other,
lying on my bedroom floor.
We did not say it-
not with words.
It was our names hanging in each others throats.
For hours we ached over the inches between us-
felt like the mountains and oceans that are between us now.
I miss you and sometimes that feeling takes over me.
I am afraid you don't feel the same anymore and sometimes that feeling takes over me.
I want to know how you're really doing.
I want you to tell me what the sunrise looks like in Alaska
and what is keeping your heart warm.
I want to tell you that I can't wait to (I hope I get to) see you again.
I want to tell you my feelings haven't changed,
but that I've only grown more curious
of how September, October, November, December have changed you,
made you love something new,
made you cry.
What has died inside you?
Has anything come to light?
I feed death every day-
laughter,
and sunlight
and poems
and honey.
It loves everything
and I feel close to it.
Most days there is an overwhelming part of me that only wants to sit and be with grief, sexx, magic, darkness,
and the willingness of the human spirit to find hope and strength amongst hatred and decay.
But I still get up
and walk with Odin under the early morning Sun.
I learn from him how the world is new every single day.
I just want to lay with you beneath the stars
and talk about
everything.
Love,
Feather
Dec 12, 2023
Dec 12, 2023 at 7:21 PM UTC
I got my ancestral DNA results back
Was reminded I was born a thousand times
I came roaring on a song from the volcanos throat
The wind gave me my name
I am a skeleton of branches and stone
Held buoyant by the ocean’s womb
Her salt still lingers on the taste of my skin
The base pairs of my double helix
are fire and air
earth and water
You can trace me back to the serpents tongue
Enticing Eve’s rebellion in that garden
I am the first womb’s blood shed,
the first ever rain.
I am every spirit that crosses the River Styx
I am the boat, the ferryman, the afterlife, the now
My body was once four legs,
Fur and howls
I could smell the blood for miles
I am still controlled by the waxing and waning of the moon
I hide with her when she is new
I have been the predator
My teeth have ripped apart the hearts of Elk
I have been the prey
Spilling my insides across the Savanna’s floor
I know the language of mycelium
But I am no better than the maggots that emerge from decomposing flesh
I have been them, too
And I believe they have a wisdom so sacred
For they have consumed everything
My father forged me by fire
His love lives in the blue of my eyes
In every life
My mother sang me to sleep
Her voice gives shape to the curls of my hair
When I look at my reflection
I see my grandmothers
When I dance
I become my sister
And when I cry
I remember I have been born a thousand times
Just like you-
You who is the first breath of dawn,
And nightfall’s lover.
You who is the flight path of Eagles
You who is Oya’s lightning and her storm
You who carved hieroglyphics on the Rosetta Stone
You who is all of us
Who is me
You,
Who has been birthed a thousand times
And will be a thousand times more
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
Woke up
Early
Stepped outside
To pink and yellow clouds
Blue sky slight chill
Fell back asleep
To yesterday
Woke up
830am
Walked bare foot
Barely clothed
Through the fields beyond our house
A symphony of birds
The flow of the creek
And your footsteps
Running
Exploring
Were the only sounds
I filled my basket
(And my heart)
With milkweed flowers
And red clover blossom
And passion flower
And yarrow
And sage to keep it all clear
Lamented
That no wine berries were bursting off their buds
Remembered I’ve eaten hundreds this year
And smiled
Went to
The elder tree
She is in transition
From maiden
To mother
Holding so much medicine inside her berries
Not yet ripe
Or ready to give to the world
There has been
Sweetness to my days
And I’m savoring it
In the fridge
In a big glass jug
Of milkweed and red clover and passionflower and yarrow and sage
Nov 1, 2023
Nov 1, 2023 at 3:54 PM UTC
consume my medicine
gently
touch parts of me
not luminous
**** my shadow
into
a sacred offering
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 8:03 PM UTC
I am sitting on the counter of the bar where I work
The moon hangs waning buoyant in the sky
It is starless-
It is midnight blue-
not yet engulfed by nights depth
There are bodies strewn about
I have exchanged
“What can I get for ya”
With a hundred
“A margarita, please”
None of them know my name
Or whether or not I’m sure if I want to be here
None of them asked
And I wasn’t going to tell them that
I never expected to be here
They just want their drink
Single tall, no story added
And I am not saddened by it
I am not really anything at all
But another body
Occupying this space
Wondering
If they will forget me as quickly I have them
Their faces
A mirage now,
An early morning dream fading quickly
Tomorrow
We will all just be bodies
Occupying other spaces
Probably not exchanging names
Moving like an empty wind
Through hundreds of other bodies
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 6:55 PM UTC
I took a picture of myself in the mirror today
An Ode to the algorithm Gods and immediate gratification
I just want people to read my poetry
And I will get more views
If I succumbed to my body as the poster child
Holding up flashy signs pointing to
my words
“Please read!”
There’s more to me than what you see here,
I promise.
But it is not the algorithm God’s fault - not at all theirs - that a picture of a girl undressed in her bathroom mirror
elicits more & immediate emotion
And that black words on a white page get glossed over (I get it, I really do. Sometimes I don’t have the patience or the capacity either)
I want so badly to make you feeling something.
My sister will, of that I am entirely sure.
She will soak in every word and get to know me even deeper.
There are a few others who will do the same, and I appreciate you deeply.
Because this was never about my reflection.
I just want the words I’ve laced together that I love so much
To be read & loved too.
I want to tell you that yesterday
the butcher asked me if I wanted the beef heart cut into slices
And I said no
because holding it whole in my hand allows me a moment
To drift away and dream of when it’s the heart of a steer I’ve loved and butchered myself
I want to tell you that
My dog always takes the chicken foot off his food bowl first
and runs away to another room to ingest it
as if it holds wisdom he must keep to himself
I want to tell you that I prioritized writing this morning over breakfast
Because I had to get this all out before I could even consider
Taking anything in
I want to tell you that
I wonder all the time why I get to be in a body
That wakes up to so much love every day
I want to tell you
I moved into a new house
and there are altars everywhere
and I started bleeding as soon as I was settled here
Because my body knows everything
My body is the actualization of my ancestors ceremonies
I want to tell you that
My body is moving me through each day
and I am finding poetry
In places another version of me could have never imagined to be beautiful
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 6:55 PM UTC