Have I done enough praying in my life,
to have brought to fruition, this caring man
that God sent my way?
He cares for me and how I feel,
he pulls my chair so I can sit.
He holds me close on the dance floor,
and beckons me to follow his masculine lead.
He raises his drink and toasts to my honor,
which makes me feel unbelievably special,
like winning our own private lottery drawing.
He puts me on his pedestal and holds me
in the highest regard.
But yet he still worries; will I always be,
the same me he sees every day.
Am I going to change who I’ve introduced him to?
Is my love for him going to change?
Are the words I pen from my heart, going to
end up hurting our divine connection?
I am here to stay for the long haul,
I am not afraid to share my feelings.
I dig this power that you emit my way.
That slow drag you had in the beginning
is still locked down inside my soul

It was an evening of tears.
Not of pain or sadness
but those that arise unbidden and unexpected
after witnessing a hardened woman
who finds a sliver of grace
to forgive herself and another.

Tears of gratitude
from the sudden awareness
of undeserved goodness
given freely.

This flow welled up
from something so deep within me
it belies masculinity, logic,
or the thick and high walls
cast up from hurt.

Tears that pierce scar tissue
wrapped around the soul
from pain or the fear of it
from abuse and the remembrance of it.
These are powerful tears
more mighty than the brutality
and shameless arrogance
I witness on the evening news.

Oh how full I felt
from this unabashed weeping
as if I had been visited by angels,
innocence,
or something that can only be called
divine.

I am thankful for the trespassers.
for those who dared breach my walls
gently but firmly, who passed through
my locked doorways carrying candles,
determined to do no harm, determined
to raise me from the dead.

NOT  a goodbye my sweet birds
but that season's  change
o'er time and human need

the burrow may borrow
what little warmth
of heart but the sun sees
the vastness of grand love
we give her\so not a goodbye
little ones but a promise
for tomorrows!

:: 03-22-2014 ::
Rev: 03-18-2018

unlimited strength
embracing softly, my hands
such power understands

Here we are
In a closet,
protected by intimacy.

This is not a reflection,
written on sand
nor a message
left on a mirror
by salient hands.

With a phrase
I will release you.
Into a room,
Without judgment, or breath.
Without a scream of worry,
Or an island of regret.

This is love without witness,
The most naked of vulnerabilities.
The self-seeking, all seeing periphery,
Truth.