Tag: heart
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After the Rain
some daysgetting up is enough.feet on cold tiles,kettle humming,a clean shirt pulled over last night’s ache. you don’t have to shine.not today.just breathe.just be. let the storm pass without explanation.let the sky rinse itself clean. there’s no deadlinefor feeling okay,only weather,moving through. and when it does,when the clouds crack openand a thread of light finds…
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Still Here
Some daysthe light forgets your name.Doesn’t meanit’s gone for good. Even the suntakes timeto climb the sky. You don’t have to rise fast.You don’t have to smile.You just have to stay,breathe once,then once again. There’s no prizefor pretending.But there is gracein holding onwhen everything says let go. You are still here.And that means:you are strong…
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Shaping a Poem
It’s a quiet thing, a word foundin the stillness of dawnwhile dreamers slumberand the new moon succumbsto day. A fading thought,soft intake of breathin the long pause between sleep and wake.Sometimes it’s hopeenduring wildfire, flood,or the dusts of time.Maybe dinosaur bones,a lost tomb, or scarecrowsguarding lavender fields. Perhaps a dew-drizzledcobweb, a jonquil, cloudor song. Most…
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Red Shack Triptych
I. Red Shack, White Silence (His Voice — Then) We climbed past where the trees give up,boots sinking through hush and drift,wind at our backs like a warningwe chose not to hear.The red shack waited—tilted, rust-kissed,half-swallowed by snow. Inside,a match struck light against the cold.One flame,then another,until the dark softenedjust enough to hold us. There…
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Instructions for Holding a Heart
Use both hands,even if it looks small.Especially then. Do not squeeze,poke,test its reflexes.It’s not a trick muscle. Keep it warm,but not too close to flame.It remembers burning. When it trembles,don’t panic.They all do.Just be still,and let it findits own rhythm again. Do not fill itwith your own silence.It needs space,not emptiness. If it cracks,and it…
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Paw Print
Years since—his bowl gone,yard grown over,collar hangingunused. This morning,cleaning the window,I found it—one print,low in the corner,half lost to light. It floored me.Solid.Sure.The weight of himin a single mark. I stoodcloth in hand,his breathsuddenly in the room. Didn’t wipe it.Didn’t move. Just watchedas the sun warmed the glassand brought himloping backthrough the yardand the years.…
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The Shape My Name Takes in Your Mouth
It’s differentwhen you say it. Softer,like it’s something you foundand didn’t want to break. No rush.You let it settleon your tongue,curl in the warmthbetween breath and meaning. Sometimesyou barely say it at all—just hum itinto my shoulder,or murmur itto the space betweensleep and waking. I’ve heard itshouted,slurred,scrawled on formsand barked in anger. But from you,it’s…
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The Reason the World Spins
I did not fall.I turned—slow as tide,sure as breath returningafter grief. You are not my light.You are the axis—the unseen pullthat keeps my feet to the earth,my voice steady,my hands open. Before you,I mistook motion for meaning.Now, I know the shape of stillness.I know what it isto be seenand not flinch. You ask nothing but…
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Whalesong
for the ones who sing into silence Somewhere below the shimmer linewhere light forgets itself,a whale turns slow in a cathedral of salt—each scar on her skina stanza. She sings,not to summon,not to find—but to remember. A song older than shipwrecks.Older than ropes and sails. The deep drinks it.Holds it like breath.Lets it echoalong trenches…
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Almost Eden
You knew.She knew.It was thick in the air —like rain that never falls. Her hand on the doorframe.Yours in your pocket,clenched around nothing. The storm had passed.But the heat hadn’t broken. She looked at youlike you were the answerto a question she wasn’t supposed to ask. And you looked at herlike a manmeasuring the cost…
