the sweetness
of a moment
held
in tension
sandwiched between due-dates and
dead-lines
the allure
of a stolen moment
suspended
in the chaos
a moment of the purest
beauty I've ever witnessed
it is beautiful to be transitory

This body is my palace of water and dust.
It is my earth,
my whole,
my entire empire.
Contained within my skin is a world
of complex systems and relationships
too immaculate to comprehend.

I lay myself bare continually.
Exposed vulnerable and strong, I embrace the wind.
Flexible and malleable, I bend and shift but hold my
center--
somehow my center holds.

I contain every natural phenomenon,
and each of them contain me completely.
I see my reflection in the water and I am the water,
I see the bark on a tree and my skin empathizes,
I smile and my soul takes on the wings of the butterflies
and flirts with the leaping wind.

And you come in and you dump your **** in my rivers,
oil and chemicals polluting my veins.
You mine my depths for the gold and discard the soil,
you exploit my purity.
You ignore my warnings and pleads as if you don't understand my language.
You are the ones who don't believe in climate change,
as if facts were fiction.
You don't believe in your impact on my existence.
You carry on as if i am worthy of nothing but disposal
and exploitation,
as if i am not as intrinsically valuable as you are.

Do you not see yourself in me?
Do you not see your own reflection in the waters of my eyes?
Do you not recognize the similarity in our skin?
Our commonality in the blood that pounds like torrential floods
on the windows of our souls
reminding us that we live?

Do you not see the web of life that binds us
so intrinsically together?
We are as inseparable as inhale and exhale.
We need each other--
we are the same process,
the same breath.

i dreamed i smoked a cigarrette
felt its silky breath glide down my insides
calming and resolving what felt unsettled
as i walked with midnight, my solitary companion,
down a deep blue lit street

can i even describe the purity that silky white substance
introduced at the bottom of my belly
how clean and calm it felt--almost sweet
yet mixed with guilt and fear of addiction
and everything i had been told and knew
it was nothing like i knew a cigarette to be

what was it i dreamed up a cigarette to calm
what is it that stirs in me, unsettled
that i can't seem to resolve
what am i not finding in my waking hours
that i needed to escape to my dreams to resolve,
what in me craves to taste the smoke that
i've never waking let inside my lungs

I am a monumental Woman
my Scalp plunges the sky depths
and my wide Soles caress the clay layered deep
my Palms hum with light ever
expanding ever surpassing my Fingertips
the curve in my Spine sings with the
waves of the ever shifting sea
and I see with the Eyes of every living thing
empathy seeping into my Bloodstream

this Body is my Earth
my Home
my Sanctuary
my Palace of water and dust

I lay Myself bare
I am exposed open and vulnerable
uncovered
yet I bend like trees in the storm
like grass under foot
and I undulate like water over stones
like smoke twisting  
I flicker like flame over fuel
like wind in Your hair

I have chosen to let my Limbs stretch and
soak in the open air
I have chosen to drink of fullness and
taste the richest fruits of life
I do not hide away in forgotten caves or blue corners
I am here in the open
breathing deeply of this golden air

I am not sorry if my boldness upsets or disrupts you,
if You cannot help but notice the depth and breadth of my Life
this is Me and I will not hide that I am a monumental Woman

i've never wanted to swim in the sky more than
when i saw the rainbow
yesterday
i've always craved the northern lights
i forgot we have our very own sometimes

tired. weary.
of having my red flags always ready
of being on alert for every cue
every subtle hint
from any one of you

i've grown scared of small smiles and long glances
even though that's most of what i do
i'm afraid of seeing it back
because i am always afraid of what complications
your attentions would entail

am i expected to curb my fondness
my friendship
my curiosity
my joy
to keep from leading you on

should i protect your feelings
and in doing so push down my own
do i owe it to you not to
really look in your eyes like i love to
or to not laugh too loudly when i find you funny

do i owe you my reservation my restriction
do i owe it to you to domesticate my affections
so i don't hurt you
when i tell you that:
no, i will not go to dinner with you
even though i would love to
if it didn't mean leading you on

or no, i cannot be that for you,
even though i would love to spend time with you alone
if it didn't mean leading you on

because i love you dearly already
and i want to explore every crevice
of your vibrating soul
but purely platonically

no one else seems to think this way
and i am confused
and sad
i'm tired. i'm weary.
of these ever waving red flags.
i hate the color red. it demands so much.