i am the damp air,
the smell of moss,
the wet bark,
the wingbeat of a bird,
the sun sprayed pine,
the silent snake among shrubs
the trunk wrestling with vines
i am not the obvious, sprawling forest,
but the space left inside it,
the narrow passage
that allows the way through
the silence that makes its song possible
i am the aerial view of clouds,
the accidental place found within
my heart is stone, washed endlessly
by pure streams
i am the breast of the forest,
the black honey trickling on ants
a hidden source of nourishment
i may not be visible,
nor celebrated, but i sustain life
quietly.

i see the moon panting
during a solar eclipse,
pulling the sun out of our sight
it feels like a burial
not with dirt,
not with a shovel,
not with a shroud,
not with a grave,
but with its own shadow.

i am the bird flying
above the ocean,
with feet skimming
the surface
with a heart hovering
in an unknown geography
soft plumage, trilling
in between
not wholly of the sky,
not entirely of the water,
but brushing both worlds

Goats graze my heart,
rustling in its fields
fish circle, nibbling at
the remains, while birds
warble and nest
inside my ribs
stars twinkle
in my orbs,
and i pour my blue
into the rivers because
i am fertile enough
to become a refuge for
every hunger, but men.

i used to think
love had to be loud to be real
like coronation drum beats

but yesterday,
i saw it in the rain

when water meets water,
there’s still impact

two soft things
can still make waves

that’s what happens
when love is real
it amplifies.