these wide eyes
like legs spread open
is this really empowerment 
i see the shadow
being pulled along
but whose arms hold who at night 
resting with another
not in your nest
is that the recognition you seek 
flesh flesh flesh
but that’s not courage
true strength is surrender
a need to hold 
the longing for passion 
somewhere within
beyond the stained sheets
and the hot nest
you cradle a desire 
for another lifetime

the wind blows in a certain way
during the deep winter months.
it is difficult to describe.
it sounds like a mix between
a shushing sound
and a soft whisper
as it moves along the side of the house
and onward into the night.
it isn’t deep winter,
yet i was awoken
from sleep by its movement.
maybe it is a shushing sound
or a whisper-like hum.
though at this point in my life
it sounds like a memory.
jeremiah once listened to this sound.
who was he?
who was i?
i will not ask this outwardly
to the world.
it holds few answers for me.
the wind has returned again.
did it carried jeremiah away
during its last visit?
no, i simply awoke from my rest
to the wind moving about my soul,
gently pulling all that
which was no longer needed from within.

01:00. Quiet. This, to me, is the most sacred time. Gentle breaths. Every part of the skin is aware of the stillness. I never liked the night. My fears would always find me. Now I long for it. I can strip down and be as I wish. I can witness without judgment and hold myself. I reach out to dreams now, and open to them, let them fill in the questions and unknowns. The stillness holds space, and the night, it grants me freedom not felt in the day.

sometimes i slip into such stillness

i am not seeking it

it simply arrives

it holds me as i want to be held

it is in this place

that all the questions fade

and i am left with the knowledge

that i could love you

as much as i love myself

father, as i age
i can see you
in my eyes,
and in the wrinkles
on my face.
they are not
sad eyes,
just pensive,
eyes that hold more feelings
than age.
i don’t know
what aged you,
what put those
emotions deep within
those eyes of yours.
I know they would
hold me.
it wasn’t always with
love. no,
it was seldom so.
there was a bitterness
there, deep in
those eyes.
when i look at
my reflection,
when i hold my gaze,
i see a gentleness
brought about by
life and all the trials
i have had.
it never made
me bitter.
it never made me
as it made you.
but i do not
trust myself.
my words can bite.
i don’t want my
eyes to as well.
i don’t trust
that they
will always hold
those dear to me
with love.
no, i don’t.
i have tried.
now must turn inward,
and let my eyes
look outward
toward the word,
but only truly
see within.