First Hug

my pinky is snug
in a warm hug
wrapped in her tiny palm
her hand teaches mine
to live my design
create my own conscious calm


 

in times like these
of global dis-ease
and individual addiction
she reminds me how
to be here now
perform this to perfection

Portrait of a Girl

She feels the pull of the memory unraveling her tangled thoughts from the knot of an industrialized adult life.

As a young girl, she saw her face in the moon, its hair spilling onto the ocean’s surface and through her own fingers as she twirled the strands of silver age into her own hair. Her heart beat in time with the waves lapping against the ship. She saw through the darkness, through a star that burned a peephole through the black veil of her future.

The voices of this adult life are many. In those rare quiet moments, the memories of a child unfold like the first morning stretch of the day. My arms reach high above me in reverence to the things I cannot hold onto, as my feet balance this body with each vibrating step towards the middle life.

rattled by the wind
vibrating to change
each leg is a note
discordant rings against
the invisible air of fear




tuning our fears
blending them
with ancient chords
we chime against the softness
of life and each other


(inspired by Mummy)

Healing (a mermaid's way)

blinded by a glaring sun
the truth is not always clear
but an old wisdom
veiled in shadows
luring you into your own prison
where you see with your sorrow
you feel with your fear
and curiosity is a key