(for the one who stands at the edge, where the fabric begins to fall)

She had once been known—
but only through a portrait
painted in the shades of misunderstanding.

A silhouette mistaken for substance.
A voice mimicked before it ever found
its own breath.

She knows this.
And so the chains that bind her now
are not forged of cruelty,
but memory—
a memory that clings to who she was
before she could ever choose to become.

And still, she dreams of the sunlight.
Of fabric falling, not ripped—
but released.
Softly.
Willingly.
In the warmth of a gaze that promises
no weight will be added
to the skin that already bore so much.

She does not want to be reclaimed.
She wants to be re-seen.

Not as the story once told,
but as the story now unfolding.
A woman not returning,
but arriving.

And if the beholder must grieve
the version of her he once adored,
so be it—

for only in that grief
can he welcome the miracle
of what is finally, freely,
and beautifully real;

and  hope upon hope--

     not one of his own chains
     in sight

Last time when the dust turned blue
a new kind of rain erupted
like pellets bouncing off the ground
realizations poured over our heads
last time I laid flat on a road
and challenged the force of decisional wind
protesting the passage of time
swallowing images of mountain range
from the highest point in the city
last time I felt so dearly in love
with the color of the sky
with the way things go,
with the touch of new life
last time I got to know my own breathing
was when, just like this,
in seasonal change, fragments of old self
came to accompany on a journey
through a new day

I live and love as if reborn—
a soul unclenched, no longer torn.
The skies toast me with silver cheers,
a prayer answered through the years.

They come—those laughs, those quiet grins,
in giggles, bursts, and subtle spins.
Joy spills from me, a song unplanned,
like heaven kissed my throat by hand.

Love lives in me, unmasked, awake,
no echo now, no smile that’s fake.
This flight—unreal, yet somehow true—
feels like the stars are shining through.

So bless me once, then bless me more—
this heart has found an open door.
Alive at last, and every time,
my pulse recites a warmer rhyme.

And now—farewell to cries and drains,
the ghosts of sleepless, silent pains.
I’ve stitched my wounds with threads of grace,
and kissed the shadows from my face.

A fresh start waits with arms spread wide—
a softer path, a gentler tide.
Let love come near, with light that stays,
in hugs and hopes and golden days.

Watch me drift, a flame unchained,
laughing where the stars have rained.
The sky broke open just for me—
yes, life still burns—
but now, I burn to be.

I'm living, loving like it is
first time happened in my life long ago.
Cheers, heavens—great like I always prayed.
They come in all sorts.
Happiness comes out of my throat—
giggles, laughs, all comes in different sorts.

Love in my heart.
It is my first time to live it true.
Life feels like flying—
like it's the first time
coming from above.

Bless us sometimes.
I live loving life.
I love it every time I feel alive.

This is my time to say goodbye
for all the cry,
the things drained me.

I'm in a fresh start,
hoping for love and best wishes—
hugs for me.

I want to finally live free.
See me come, go,
like I'm a float boat—
happy like insane.
Heavens blessed me.

Life do really care.

Wash over me,
Rinse away the sin,
I don’t want to be this,
Tired of the running,
Hoping the light never touches,
But I can’t keep circling the drain,
Encased in shadows,
Deafened by the refrain
Of my own voice dithering,
Trailing off into a distance.

So wash over me,
Shower my life like a wet hug,
Acupuncture raindrops,
Stabbing all my demons,
Exorcising my inner heathen,
Wrapping me in with roses,
Thorns picking as the blood exposes,
Need for your healing waters,
Pouring from angel eyes,
Weeping for my soul,
Crash me down like Zeus,
Tell me I won a prize,
Reprieve for my sad life,
Singing truth from all the lies.

Wash over me,
Let my sweat bead away,
And the cold cause a shiver,
So I can shake off the pain,
I want to live again,
Grow in your garden,
A snake eater in a new Eden.

How brave of you to cast your
tears at your enemy,  
and how whimsical to invite yourself
to Jupiter during this leap year—a time

for dancing to honor a fire in your
grandmother's name. I understand
how you forgave her, given the many
desires she had that you could not fulfill.  


Perhaps you consider all the painful secrets
and blinding smiles she endured,
so show her grace as she plays the vinyl
of her favorite song on repeat, without dropping that penny.

Remember, music is the baptism
of every religion, and there should never
be a chip on your shoulder, knowing you are God's creation.  
We are a cherished old town, full of potential to rise above our past.

Let’s gather in the meadows of daisies and extend a peace offering. While we still have dreams tucked away in the cupboard, we can sense that the shutters on our windows are in need of repair, reflecting our desire for renewal.