Unfold the folded paper,
Open to twice its size
And then unfolds more.
An edge becomes a crease,
A stain.
The sharpness gone, but
Its mark imprinted,
A new sharpness there
To remind you
There’s more to unfold.
The creased symmetry deceiving you
To remember it as a sensical history
When the folding had its start.
When you folded in,
When you folded.
The Robber will try to take it all.
To own the essence,
Take it all.
To call himself rich,
Take it all.
To gain control,
Take it all.
Shifts and whispers
In the darkness
Soft footsteps
Slow then rapid
Tentative to tenacious.
Loudening force.
The robber will try to take it all,
All of it.
All of you.
But he can’t.
Thaw
Crack, the dry cold smell.
The break in the surface, the shell.
Crack, the edges get softer.
There goes my memory.
The ice thaws.
In the deepest corners
Of the dark night
There you are
The real you
Realest you
The one who is a survivor
The one who can find hope
The one who doesn’t just carry on
But who can change the tide.
This is your radiance
This is your calling
Even when you don’t know
What you are called to.
The call is for movement,
For progress,
For an embrace of change.
And there you are
Shining.
Even while feeling
Like you are falling apart.
You move. You heal.
Seeking your radiance.
Seeking your own love.
This belief, it is your gift.
Architect
To design the space
To build the space
To fill the space
And to feel it.
This space.
All of the spaces.
To be in relationship
To space,
With space,
As we are with each other.
To share a space
To love that space
To lose that space
And grieve for it.
The space, the person,
The space, the past.
The space, the home.
The hardship of being here
When empty from everything else.
Everyone else.
You.
The anxiety, the mindplay
In this space
Unintended at design.
I read the hurried whispers put to page.
The older women extol their wisdom
Rapidly
Before it is taken from them
Before it is twisted
Or edited
Before it is stripped to half-meaning.
I read the wild feminine energy.
I know it already.
But, this is confirmation of the divine force.
Inherent in women.
Inherited from our mothers, their Mothers,
In the moon dancing.
In our wombs.
Born myself from a fierce yet gentle mother
She is part of this force
As am I.
To be a woman now
Close to not having to whisper any longer.
We create the rising tide.
To embody this body
Is foreign
When the natural state
Was to disown
This flesh, my flesh
It is mine, and I
Did not want it
Did not like it
But, I have it.
How then do I love it?
How do I care for it?
To not hate it?
Small steps, I learn
I feel it.
Scares me
And excites me.
To feel me. The person.
The embodiment.
New.
Uncomfortable and
Radical.