a fading lifespan…

her strength never failed

somewhere there hiding in the shadows

simply ready to be as she was born to be

a warrioress, a teacher,  a healer

divine feminine lying in wait

for her human fragility

to shatter as porcelain

gather every delicate piece

rearrange herself an artpiece

arise anew

This poem was written 3 months ago. I had no idea I wrote this until now as I decided to look at the drafts folder. So many times I have started to write only to abandon it, and yet, have I?  My heart knew what my mind did not…to let fade a hurting lifespan, and to become anew





an anniversary…a death…a resurrection

It has been 2 years since registering on WordPress. So it stated in my notifications a few days ago. It hasn’t felt that long ago even with all the pauses I took from writing. Perhaps that is what came to mind (is time relevant?) when I thought about the purpose of my writing. I asked myself if I wanted to keep writing in the same manner, still feel the same pain over and over again, experience the same ache and loneliness wedged inbetween the lines, wake up a few years from now still carrying the heaviness of loss?

I have taken quite a extensive break from writing in the last couple of months. I just stopped feeling inspired! I felt a part of me die! I felt that I had nothing more to say! I felt once again that the same pattern came back to haunt me! And, so I let go! Every once in awhile I worried I would never write again, but writing is inside me, alive and breathing. I lay dormant so I could release the old energy I have carried for a long while now. and in my stillness I suffered, was pummled, torn and cut, cried, mourned, died a thousand deaths, but not without reason, not without purpose. The dark night of the shadow is very true. My moon groaned…my sun dimmed…ego death is so very hard to embrace.

So I am here again, without expectation. A resurrection? Well, not the old shadow self. But there will be more shedding of old skin…you can just sense it when you have more to release…beauty from ashes, let me burn…I am still becoming M

a mooring truth…

my god how I hear

the sound of years

centuries of lifetimes spent


so many precious hours

that which equal the stars

all to reach this one moment

a mooring truth

I  do remember

This poem I started a day or two ago but could not finish. I could feel the energy buzzing the tip of my mind/tongue and yet, nothing flew to the page. Today I was able, in a few moments, to write what came. I love moments such as these. Clarity unveiled! I asked, prayed I should say, for divine guidance concerning direction, a purpose…my life’s mission, hoping that whatever aimlessness, unassurace in my writing was actually for something more than not. I received that truth today, or at least a small glimpse of that truth which is most assuredly moored to my writing. Many things I’ve written in past poetry/writing, on this blog, my other blog, Instagram, even a couple of twitter accounts (which I haven’t written there in quite sometime) I now realize have more significance than I could have possibly imagined! These last few years have been hours, minutes, and seconds lived horrifically torturous and beautifully awakening, all divinely guided towards total self-transformation. So where does this knowledge lead me? There is no end destination per se. I just know that my writing is not for not! And that I should speak my truth of what has lead me to this precipise I am at!

a knowing…

more of you

this need of sustenance

as I suspend my mind

with silence expanding my breath

resting in my palm

somehow the enormity of you 

lay within 

I am never more myself

than in the space of seconds

of your inner sound…

this…a knowing; hunger

still wild & burning


a choosing…

* pic from bing images

The thing of it

that which steals my breath

as I consider this…

Is that I asked for it long ago

ages & eons 

with the first tick of time

agreed to every circumstance

every aspect

all the delays

every second of slience

every centimeter of heartbreak

miles upon miles of longing

to suffer & groan


churn & ache  

quietly spin webs

cocoone; rest and hide

swallow the dark silence

hold delicately this painfully beautiful experience

deeply breath in this spiritual existence

lay felled and soar awakened

I, we agreed to it

every fracture

every structure collapse

every death and rebirth

every complex design

as that such of butterfly wings

all masculine & fully feminine

darkened & shimmered


founded of divine hope




and still…


I am so not political but…

Im sitting here thinking of what this day is for and it has nothing to do with bar b que or beer, but has everything to do with remember those that have sacrificed their lives, their limbs, their mental health, forever changing their family’s landscape so that others may live in freedom.  And so that you can sit in nature, with your family, without constraints, regardless! 

My son is boot camp as i type this, training his body, his mind to prepare for unseen wars… this is so frightening for a mom and yet, i am so very proud of him!

Dont waste his gift…

Don’t waste the gift the fallen have given…

Don’t forget why you can sit in your backyard with barbque and beer…

the shade of my veins…

where have I gone
smoothe the plumes
underneath I am tainted and split
colors brilliantly faded
only still alit by a tiny seed of faith
yet so unsure and faltering…reaching
this pulse ever roiling
rushed and pulled
I feel you hidden among the layers of lifespans
threadbare and paled…written in my viens
stormed; beating and bruised
I am losing breath to find you
peeling back layers and hours
redress me, my love
remember; a thousand times ten thousand we have loved…love
end the sound of vultures hovering
slay the falsehood
uncloak your heart
don’t break me
just come love every shade
you have colored of me

language of a feminine heart…

constant & beating 

what shall I do with her anymore

wasting divine feminine 

silence wrapped around my throat

bleeding an unending rain

rooted in centuries

stretched a thousand years

this heart soaked in red thread

blushed and violent 




so far away; almost home