Child

No reason my heart ought beat
No logic

Save you, who saves me

From nothingness, thinks me something
From absence, brings me present

No reason, no logic
But perfect sense

First Of All

I am not God
But I know a truth
So I will say what

Let us recreate Woman
What the divine image!
Be she blessed

Let us grant her dominion
See these creatures
In need of a fruitful goddess

Let us know her abundance
Let us call her good
Let us rest

wife of his youth

Do you remember, before you were born, child, how I was sad a lot, for I, back then, was always the other?

While he, in utmost civil tongue, talked and laughed hard with others and shouted and murdered and silenced the me

I talked to you, “It is okay.” and God would keep us and we three would always, always, always have eachother

God danced with us and I with you when no one else would dance with me…there was always and always another

Remnants

This is my own tragedy
This telepresence, of sorts
I, loving you

Self-created, for my imagination is that of a girl reading far too many fanciful tales of interplanetary affection and of camel-led caravans of the Orient
The dust of this all still surrounds me

Something I alone permit
Against God’s will,
I believe in you

blaze

I am to go deep with you
Some say I have
Some ask what for
I know there’s no secret You
No obscure path
No hide and seek
I, Earthbound, in need of you
You, Smith…I, rod
You, Shield…I, scout

Wing

It is enough for me, the breeze today. To let it waft over me, and with it, bring a strength.

Beauty and curiosity, like a bleached-comb Cardinal, often ride on such air. This morning, though, wisdom arrived.

This morning, the wind asked for my resolve: A halt to crying over others’ big promises and small feet. The stop to the bruises I allow.

A decision that I am enough. The God who created me said so.

This weekend, a storm of understanding is predicted. An Eastern Bluebird cannot be far behind.