Her breath was ice
Was she gone?
Waves of time did not move her
There was no fear
There was no joy
There were no sounds
Where is she?
Here eyes moved slowly
Her movement had intent
But she is not here
She is gone
A victim of her own struggle

between darkness and light
twilight
this is where i am at the moment

why does it feel like this?
i can't find the words

the energy, the sensations
i don't want to be here
in. my. mind.
feel and be present: this is where You begin
detach to connect to your wounds
learn from them to heal
be still and allow the emotions to swell
ache writhing in my heart. pain. tears.
breathe s l o w l y

outgrowing who i've been
not knowing yet
but appreciating how far i've come
holding on to the heartache and pain
because i still can't find the words
and this is part of how i tell my story
maybe it's more for me than for you
protecting myself: ego
learning to be thankful for each moment i cry
seeking for her to be free

the body knows
intuitively.  if i pay attention
i didn't see before
that's why you keep coming around
settle into uncomfortableness to discover your higher truth
i do everything not to be here

i now feel the desire to release
choose the vibration that excites your senses
wanting to send light to all the places that need love
the vulnerabilities are your courage and strength
breathe them in
let them settle
to create more space

let go of what no longer serves your heart: loneliness, shame, desperation, abandonment
i don't want to tend to these feelings anymore
i've kept them close and safe long enough

what are the points at which the top edge of the sun reaches the horizon?
i want to be in that light
where the aura radiates
and the energy is tender, beginning again

if not for you, i would not have remembered
so bright i am: the beauty of the sunrise
be present to this moment
awaken

a breath in to receive
a breath out to continue the journey

--dinah simpson

I am starting to see the cracks in I.
The voice that I could not differentiate from.
The part of me I mistakenly identified as I.
Whispers its grievances like ghost rolling upon 3am.
As if my mind is its corridor to haunt.
Oh, no longer I, the one that associates itself with me.
The ego is the one who pronounces I.
Hangs off your existence like Corporate America preys on the poor.
The part of you and I that questions am.
The one voice that separates us.
Same as the fake border that pronounces mine, yours, and theirs.
Ownership that never fails to remind you.
It’s the voice that degrades you.
Same as the men who teach boys that boundaries only exist for state lines.
It’s the part of I, that am bears in the burdening of pretending…
Pretending that the notion that you must be this or you must be that.
The promises we keep to I instead of am.
These are the same silent alliances our egos share.
Parts of us that accepts submissively.
That trades profit for war.
That values trees as paper.
That mistakes water as a product not a right.
That part of I that tells you that the land belongs to I…
But you see, you are not I, you are not the ego.
The part of am reminds you that reminds that you –
That you belong to the land, but the land does not belong to you…

I AM

They invite you to dwell on nothing and everything at once. Oddities that soften the sounds that surround you and amplify the beat of life in each breath you take. Far from strangers but hidden in plain sight. Indulging your focus through a narrow tunnel view. Dilating your pupils and lifting your skin through spontaneous extraordinary sensory awareness while depriving you the passage of time. A temporal trap in eternity before you snap and walk away.