Onward

I jumped and I did not fall.
I flew.
Just like all those promises said I would.

Some days I soar.
Some days I swoop so low
the tips of my wings brush the water
and I know if I stopped moving forward
for even a second
I would be wet and heavy and sinking.

So, onward.

Some days I'd give anything
for a soft place to land,
but the stars say not yet.
Perhaps I haven't broken in these wings
well enough to know for certain
that if I folded them to rest
I would have the strength to unfurl them
and fly once again.

Until then, onward.

Tell Me

Tell me, can you taste it,
my promise on your lips?
I left it for safekeeping
the last time that we kissed.
It is this:
I can go along,
stand strong,
sing my own song,
and still belong
to you.
And I do.

Of All The Billions

I have a stone.
Wide, flat, slightly oval,
I keep it in my pocket.
I found it when I wasn't looking -
or it found me -
knowing the shallow valley along its back
would rest effortlessly upon my finger
while my thumb turned circles
on its smooth, round belly.
Few know it is there,
this steady companion
that keeps me grounded and
keeps me dreaming.
But it doesn't need to be hidden.
It won't lose it's magic in the light of day.
Soon I'll hold it in my open palm,
showing anyone who will look:
"See, here! The beauty!
Did you even know such a thing existed?"
Those who see with their eyes
will call it a fine stone
but argue there are billions and
surely many a stone would do.
But those who see with their hearts
will recognize the miracle in finding
the one that fits seamlessly into your hand
even when you reach for it in the dark.
Of all the billions,
that one you keep.

Inadequate

Everything in me is enormous tonight. I tried to write but all the words that came seemed so wildly inadequate. So I'll leave it to another. I don't really want to write, anyway. 

I want to touch. That would say it all.

A Conceit

Give me your hand.

Make room for me

to lead and follow

you

beyond this rage of poetry.

Let others have

the privacy of

touching words

and love of loss

of love.

For me

Give me your hand.

-Maya Angelou

Magnolia

Delicate blossoms
Day-long rain too much to bear
Petals kiss the earth.

Holding Space

Years now of digging
and I've finally carved out
an authentic heartspace.

Solid braces of clear intentions
hold this space wide open,
spare it from collapse.

It is precious, but still not heavily guarded.
Show up for me and I will repay you in kind,
for what is there ever to do, really, but love?

Burning Bright

For days and nights now

I've burned,

a white hot flame

at my center.

Ever brighter,

this fire of life,

my power lies in 

the heat.

Why did I ever think to douse it?

Why ever attempt to give it away?

I promise to fuel it, tend it, spread it,

and never let the ashes go cold again.