To be a woman, in today’s world,
that stretches into the writing of a tomorrow’s world,
a world that feels so absolute in its reckoning
feels like a mountain that cannot be climbed.
I pray that you find some sliver of beauty
in the moonlight that chases you,
and the stars that kiss your forehead
when you sleep with your big dreams.
I pray you don’t let those dreams flow off your palms
into a river stream when this world threatens you with its cold air
You hold onto them tightly
because even with their singular light
the shadow you leave behind,
so big and strong – a fearless fighter
you stretch into the writing of your world
and your light brings me to write of you
in awe.

I made a list of caveats
For the designs you constructed,
From thoughts in my mind
And for one, you know me too closely
It is too frightening
The way you find constellations
In broken skies
And propriety from my colouring
Outside the lines
Then, within my bones, too unstructured,
You found the sun in their moonlight complexion
And you confess your secrets
That these letters and conversations we’ve exchanged
Hang in a gallery in your head

Etched sentiments
And faded drawings of everything resolute

Your emotions, cataclysmic sentiments,
build foundations from crumpled pieces of paper
creating ideas born out of despair
and you sit amongst yourself
feeling like a candle flame
with piles of unsaid things
as your fuel, waiting to ignite,  
a wicked smile held in place
right where it belongs
at the centre of a concept map
unsteady, unpredictable
the blueprint of catastrophe
laughter without reason

What is this feeling that seems so foreign yet familiar?
As we head our own ways
down our own paths
maybe we will think to look back
but until then  
Let’s walk back to the fork in the road
and reminisce over everything we’ve seen,
over and over,


until we meet again.

I don’t know how we ended up here
The mountains and the crisp air
Something cliche about the atmosphere
Something I read in a poem in my notes somewhere
A feeling of contentment dances nearby
And infused with the oxygen we both breathe in

Let’s take a walk through my dreams
You see them speckled with hopes and memories
You’ll see they are broken and incomplete
You may even see behind the grey clouds
A hint of sunlight stringing beaded fascinations into things to wish for

It has thorns like roses
and solemn hues
the pinpricks from picking
these flowers have left maps on my hands
that I read when I am lost in the woods
by my childhood dreams