I'm craving fields and painted skies, I want to choke on the poems that burst through my throat, I want them to sing the way your eyes do
finally, I want to do everything I can.
I want to throw open the doors, draw on the walls, swallow my clutter and exhale my own kind of laughter -- I'll submerge anything I don't want to feel beneath the waves
finally, I can smile the way you do.
my spine has grown softer, there is a magic in my fingers and I'm learning how to release it, it's coming straight from the peace I'm finding inside my chest, somehow there is no longer a war there
finally, the reeds are untangling themselves.
my gift is to hold, to cradle, because i know that whatever i am holding must be deserving of my love. maybe someday soon, i'll realize that i can hold myself, just as well as you can.
finally, i feel like dancing.
just like them old stars i see that you've come so far to be right where you are how old is your soul? --