May there be more roads that open up daily onto joy
May there be more silent moments where gratitude
takes the heart into its two hands and we become filled
with an unending warmth
because we trust ourselves
and this great unfolding to sieve us at the end of this process 
into light

I thought “ okay, nothing’s going to stop me” in swoops pandemic

I thought “ I’ll wait out the pandemic”
but at last potential tumor for the win

2020 you cheeky *******; if I wore mascara it would be running heavy and black from my eyes

May the sky always be your ceiling
May the daylight and the bright distant stars always be what you reach for
and may the beauty of living be the reason
that this season you smile

A thought of you comes as a morning breeze
May you be well
May this day be wondrous for you

I choose what feels good to me
what feeds my spirit and makes me stronger
I continue to reach with the fullness of my heart forth
and I do not silence that little voice because that is violence against myself;it harms me and then I am no different from someone else who hurt me.

I choose to believe that everything is working in my favor
and that all I need to do
is to listen and to flow
gently in the direction my being
takes me
I choose to believe nothing is wasted
and that all is nourishment
all is part of the tapestry
therefore I should thank it
kiss my past away
and linger here in my sweet present
where I can really continue to create
the conditions I seek, the life I long for
make beauty and appreciate it
make lasting bonds that will be worked on constantly until the day I die
I choose to believe I am responsible for my life and everything I experience

Swirl my heart in light and love have me dissolve into them never to accept separation
have their presence shower those I love
give me strength in this lifetime as minuscule as it may be in the span of this universe to be of service
grant ‘s endless devotion so I can care for in this one humanely life for all those I hold dear
so I can offer them beauty even when there is pain in our hearts, keep me rooted
open me so all that is left is body used to it highest potential
who dares to love, fall, rise and feel the extent of what it means to human

Simple get up and change your life
the harrowing point of pain & weight

on your body marks where to begin

I have come to accept crazy hair days
as my everyday hair-day condition
I awaken with some curls at the top and some wavy strands in between, and then some straight ones
All of these paired with a voluminous bounce magnify the chaos of it all
and make me look like a little lion emerging from her blue-green duvet cave
in need of stretching and in search of food

I love this world and
I love people
even the grumpy sour ones
I like the annoying ones too
and sit with scared ones
and laugh with the older and the younger ones
and try to just listen to the talkative ones
I know and will know what it is to be all of these
so I see them and my heart softens and I want to hug them all if only my arms where long enough

curls that unravel and some that remain wavy unable to coil expansively over the field of hair follicles stretching across my cranium

I could have never said or done the right things
and someone might say it was a bridge that lead to nowhere but it lead me to me
and compassion even when someone will show me less than respect because it is not in their best interest
sometimes people are just too hurt
and I know what that feels like

I learned what I am and what I am not

The air is still fresh and the cooing of the birds is slowly becoming more audible.
The gleaming of the fluorescent lights is just as bright as the one outside. It’s doesn't matter whether you are inside or you are outside –near you there is always light.

I am trying to listen to the poetry of my life stacking all the coincidences on top of one another
taking the most random of details and connecting them like dots over

I am okay now with all the nights I spent longing for someone
I am okay now with trying to book flights every month only to have them canceled or delayed and spending the whole night crying in my bed until sleep got the better of me
I am okay with having set alarms in the middle of the night
just to try and show up for someone


I am okay with having trusted
I am okay with having pouring everything I could muster into sharing myself
I am okay with being that girl who really wanted to believe


I am okay with having been naive
I am okay with understanding people are just trying to get through thank and that’s okay, too
I am okay knowing that through other eyes I am the villain
I am okay with forgiveness

I am okay with what others may say of me because I followed my conviction till the very end
And I jumped
and now I understand
how wonderful free falling is

Some days the sadness hits me like a train
but that is okay
when you dared to love deeply the sadness should hit you like train or a semi
and there is not way around it you must just feel your way through it and learn and grow kinder

She has died
40 books swirl in our hands
As we pass them from friend to friend
During dim light living room conversations
Or read them to our beloved ones to whom we wish
Could understand

We are perfumed by her once presence and uplifted
To know that transformation and love are the ways
The most meaningful of acts

I halt my jogging to stare at the moon

I forget the moon is a floating rock  is suspended in space
how marvelous everytime I remember

Today while riding the subway cart I thought “I am scared to open my heart to him again”
and then I thought “maybe he is too”
but I don’t want to be scared

So I start slow, one small step at a time
that way I will not rush or misunderstand

Life sends me reminders of you
inserts you into conversations and
carries your presence into my days

I go about my week
one task at a time
watering the plants and sketching the leaves
–your presence burrows to the surface so I sit welcoming it

gathering roots from the soil and
clipping the longing
that grows when I leave myself unattended
and drift away from my innermost–home–
place of abidance
its "where" I can make out your silhouette
that runs alongside the wind
tucking its whispers inside its air currents

How do you bridge the divide ?
how many times do you try?
endlessly

what if the other person stops trying ?
how many more times do you hold out your hand ?
do you hold out a hand ?

Do you hold your own hand? Do you go so deep that duality both heaven and hell are traps. One an illusion just a tad better than the other but still an illusion

How many circles do you run in your mind before you realize life does not obey minds
that you are not of your mind
you are not the shovel you use to toil
not the earth on which you labor
that you are beyond the mind and beyond the physicality while at the same time one singular spot of material on earth

Duality is the kind old lady who gave you directions turn left and then right and then transcend me and you will get there

I know it was not his fault nor my fault
I know it was trauma bonding
painful inheritance of pasts resurfacing
triggering unconscious cycles

I am not angry
I am in love with my own becoming
and I can see his becoming
and think we chose well

Two different roads
my love on the other fading to nothing
alive only in the forever of yesterday

You have run an emotional marathon; it is normal to be tired–your mind and your body need rest. Let this moment be– no predicaments of ecstasy or doom. You are tired and it has been hard; sleep, time will bring clarity. Repose will renew.

My hand is extended towards you but yours seems further and further away.

Can’t make it out in the distance anymore even though we live in the same city now.

As dangerous as walking a long road with the wrongs shoes
and trying to adjust them over and over
as if somehow that will change their material
   their essence
   everything has its own way of being
just because the shoe fits does not mean it can help you make the journey
joy is a compass and you shouldn’t wait until sharp pains
arise over and over

the silence of a library in summer
is pleasing
one pencil's drop is as deep
as an ocean
its sound ebbing towards my shore
of attention
from one end of the room to other the shadow
of people gone
only a custodian and his keys celebrate
this momentous occasion

Everyday is a new day and if we can drop all the stories that limit us
and confine us
then it can truly be a new beginning

we are always a day away from a more profound life
from reaching my again courageously to the things we thought were lost to rekindle and renew to offer ourselves the possibility of joy

this is our human superpower, tender gentle and graceful we are despite our worst acts

I do love you, and whenever that truth settles into me I ask myself
so what is the kindest thing I can do for him?
I ask myself over and over again and I wonder if am  I wise enough to know
attentive enough to listen to life’s whispers

There in my hands is the summer solstice
with its prolonged warmth
my midsummer dream tilts closer to the sacred
the Tropic of Cancer
and the flowers dance honoring the sun
and although is wish to dive into the past
I must be brave
there are better things
brighter things
things that will bend naturally towards my light

Baby of the earth with your tea and your notebook at hand you have as vast a kingdom as you did outside.

The walls here can simply be erased with the flipping of a pencil. The reality you wish to  experience, momentarily halts through no fault of your own. So sweet thing, inside your cove find freedom and draw, sing, walk, gaze, get lost in hobbies or the cinematic tales of heroes or heroines- rediscover folklore or learn through physics the reason why the celestial bodies, including your planet,move the way they do.

Do all the thing you keep telling yourself      
you do not have time for
because time has arrived and knocked at your door. Time has sought your address  –and you would be a fool not to take it’s hand and lead it into your living room.

Lady if you were somethings else
do you think your eyes would gleam any brighter
Lady anchored to this time
do you know you are not the boat but the water it sails on
Lady if you had not knocked on the door
do you reckon the hurt of being turned away would be less
Lady your womb can bring life as does your thoughts
Do you realize how glorious and humanely your are

“Dar a luz” literally means to give to light
you are born when you are given over to the light
from their homes people exit
all looking for the sun

the folks chanting “no justice, no peace”
the families driving in an R.V,
the hikers on their way to the closest national park, the young men enlisting, the children throwing tantrums and growing an inch, the littering masses and the crumpling ideologies of the past all open eyed beneath the sunlight
–at least now we can see them all
they are being brought to light
(this is an opportunity)
We are all being given to the light–
this summer, next summer, the following summer, the eternal summers of the our collective strife towards rebirth sit ready in the belly of this earthly mother
where everything will be given over to the light

Limbs of mine
become workers,
plowing land and discovering
how fertile a ground
And how lively a mind’s garden can be
when worked with gentle hands
through out every season
and under every phase
of the brightly lit moon

Oh Nina when I hear your voice from the speaker I am overwhelmed and the guards standing at door of my eyes lose their composure

“ I get along without you very well” plays and I silently cry in a coffee shop

I do not know if I would cry or smile first
whichever it is
I do know I would be blessed to see you
no questions in my mind about that

Tender I sit at the side of the road
this lane that house
the many people that live in tents or sleeping bags in subway stations
the youthfulness
the way I cannot close this hatch
the way I cry when I see someone else cry

the way I say no and hold my ground even when they tell me
I must not be honest “speak like a politician” the ways in which they find me wild are the ways in which I refuse to refuse my own heart and soul

I sit tender at the side of the road

The second time, you took out a glass cup, you took out the only glass cup left in your kitchen cabinet. For the second time, you  poured into another glass cup your hot tea and again saw the crystal crack and give way to a tiny flood. The first time should of been enough, but somehow a second time was needed to gain a proper understanding of what entails care.

I am want to say many to you but I keep them in the corner of some obscure cloud of internet. There are some things I do not want to burden you with.
Some ideas that come and go and some that stay.
Some of them are foul
some are them are daring
all of them are human

I type words to help understand what I am feelings. Why I love, why I hurt, why reach for mending, why I need to keep changing my understanding of life, but sometimes I circle back to the same thoughts.

I do not know what storm you’re facing brown eyes.All I know is a portion of my best wishes and my good vibes are always sent towards your direction. However, right now I must keep my own ship afloat. I must figure out how to steer in a way that yields love and respect as I make my way across the ocean.

Some morning I just want to cleanse my being and cry
cry and let it all roll
out

I do not want to control anything or tell the sun where to shine I just want to feel the sadness so whenever I feel the I sun I can stop and soak it in

I do not want to ask to be loved because I already am I just want to feel it
feel it as I walk down the street (on some days it’s stronger the earth brims with love)

I do not need to stop loving anyone  I just need to love them so much more that their is not just some freedom in my love but complete freedom and no more holding anyone back because I love myself and I know how much of a crime that can be

The jazz became part extraordinary
swinging into my ears
leveling my mood and the uneven picture frames of the past hanging within my mind needing of proper straightening of care and of being carefully hung to show my immense gratitude for what was

Poetry whirls around me
and you will blow in like a leaf
And we will twist and turn
swirl in a leafy tornado

**** playing it cool
**** stoic faces
**** stiff limbs
you and I will dance
and the music will end all of time and drown out everyone except you and I

everything is spoken into existence
life begets life they say
and so I wonder what part of life dram me into existence
called me forth from the womb of imagination
who saw me before i was someone
and called a person like I onto this earth

I'm a cloud
and I am also the sun

I am the beauty of life
in form of a woman

I am a little piece of the planet
– another daughter of the earth

I am a snail
I am a bacterium
infinitely inseparable from our existential biography
– minuscule dust floating through the atmosphere of time

I come from what has been and will be

If this is where we call into being the loveliest of things
with deep intention I dare to call
a loving and joyful life
and so I start releasing fears
believing the impossible is not a satisfactory measure
that all that we cultivate and devote our time to is not in vain
it is our class and teacher
we the artwork coming together
as the willful painter places another mark
so if this is when I finally begin to more firmly draw my life let me call my lovely gems of light
my keepers of the light to aid me on this journey to the blossoming of a fruitful life

slide the windows open
rest, rest now
or all day you will cheat yourself
out of ease
rest there is nothing wrong with quiet
it’s where your essence brims to the surface
frothing, and ready to refresh you
if you just pause in silence

Thank you for loving me even if you never kissed me
thank you for existing even if it is not here next to me
Thank you, and I wish you well
I wish you comfort and a full heart
I wish you love and I wish you great joy

You are as bright as any star and in my eyes your, you have still got so much left to give the world and I hope you never forget, even when the going gets tough

You took all your negative thoughts and built a box around your head. The sky only as  high as its cardboard ceiling.


It’s time you start to tear through it. There is another world with its  pull of potential
                with its immense
positive intention
                                             waiting for you

It is 11:00 pm and a flock of quacking ducks  break the silence of the night slicing with the tips of their wings the sky