Dreaming
Tugging like vines from the ground
against the old brick wall I grew up next to.
Growing in sync with the blooming weeds.
Attracting the insects
and beings
with our prints and designs.
Harmoniously singing
along with the wind chimes
that hung as an amulet off the branch.
The swing set
no longer a play area,
but an art form of lines and a house.
Spreading our wings,
extending our body-length arms
towards the clouds,
trying to obtain the planets;
the soaring, glowing meteors.
Worth The Wait
Alone in solitude,
comfortable and warm
laying in the sand near the salty ocean.
She whispers as her waves hit the shore;
hitting as easily as exhaling.
Inhaling.
She holds the lives of spineless,
soft creatures in her palms.
Grasped by the extremities of the cold ground
covered with granules.
Sticks protruding from the earth below her;
her womb.
She births life,
round and full of tiny
creatures that long to be adored.
Long to be moved
to a higher place.
A warmer surrounding.
Long to be near me,
comfortable and warm.
We’ll Be Found
Woven string,
our hearts
connected in patterns
and dyed different colors.
Created and used
in different fibers.
Fibers that hold
and sustain
our body
that aches,
almost cries,
for the familiarity
of the old cloth we continually throw aside.
Wasting away,
yet increasing it’s beauty.
It’s vibrance.
Saving it’s color,
preserving it’s quality.
We are all just
unknowingly attached.
Push and pull, we’re there.
Together we’re here.
Fully functioning;
a part of each other
hanging side by side in the same closet.
Waiting to be remembered,
waiting to be seen.
We are preserved on a shelf,
like a spectacle
in a little glass bottle.
Dried flowers;
crisp
in the vase
collecting dust,
losing importance.
We are not alone.
We are all together.
Push and pull, we’re there.
Together we’re here.
Fully functioning;
a part of each other.
Red Truck
You can see right through me.
Gliding planes,
I wish you could see the whole vision.
The golden reflection of the moon
around every object.
The black trees outlined by the glow.
Every insect is singing in unity,
each star is shining,
some dim and some brightly.
So open and liberated
in the back of an old red truck.
The hum of a sister sleeping,
the warmth of these well-knit blankets.
Humidity is no stranger,
only making things grow.
Through every vein
and every muscle;
I can feel it
Every emotion, every thought.
I hear a drum of a heartbeat,
quivering of a lip,
as the moon
quietly sneaks back
into her pocket
in the big open sky.
Always turning always spinning,
and we don't feel a thing.
Gravity pulling us down
and keeping us stable.
We don't really notice until we
take a minute to think
about the trees,
the moon, the stars -
all God's creation.
Our hearts are tightly wound
in the vulnerable space
where our minds have room to think,
to feel
and
to recognize
the beauty in front of us --
it's always there.
Always changing.
With the seasons
and as things grow.
Physically, mentally and emotionally.
Bringing us closer to the ground,
humbling us,
as gravity treats
the earth.
