I have love
Love that is promised like the moon rising every night but each time a little different
I have hope
My whole life has been beautiful and even when it wasn’t I managed to be beautiful
I have health
My body works tirelessly to make sure I can dream all my dreams and write all my poems.
I have myself and the way I nourish every part of my being will be my greatest accomplishment.
Writers are just a collection of other writers
They are the product of inspiration
The proof that art transcends into each human
One by one
We are stories and poems that have lived before.
“Do you still look for him when you’re with me?”
I wonder how do I split a lie out of the truth?
How do I pretend that my eyes didn’t just whisper his name?
How do I convince my tongue to say I only want you?
Every ending leads to nostalgia
Inside her lives a mountain of memories and a lifetime of hopes and what ifs.
Sometimes I leave in the middle of a poem
I let my mind ferment
Bask in my heart
Glide with silence
And my return becomes a new arrival
I think about the patience the sun has with the earth. The way she moves and makes sure every inch of the earth receives a little bit of sunlight. I strive to have that kind of patience. To leave a little light in everyone I meet and everything I touch.
Feet grounded so deep I am sinking into everything I’ve ever wanted to be.
-how the earth catches us