The season has come around again.
At this time of year,
It holds memories
of transformation.
I remember it was
When the hummingbirds left,
when they began their
Great Migration.
The air changed a little each day,
growing just a little cooler,
a little
cooler.
Before the hummingbirds left,
they returned,
Their wings a blur of motion.
“Give us the skins
you’ve shed,
the pasts
with no place here and now!”
they said.
We took off our skins and
layers of ourselves,
all the fragile surfaces
that took our breath,
that hid our eyes.
Then we let a stillness come.
A sense of calm where we could say,
“This is how I will remember you!”
Tag: love
of becoming
shadows
of hands reaching
to face
of naked flesh
of hands to body
of being
and of becoming
the language
I speak a foreign language.
It feels like there are endless syllables and countless vowels,
And I speak it alone.
All I want is to feel good in my body and connect with someone else.
But I feel tangled
in a language that only I seem to understand.
When I speak, it feels heavy in ways I can’t describe.
It brings out meanings I never meant.
I kept my desire for pleasure and true connection to myself,
afraid of how much
my words might weigh on someone.
Then gentle fingers touched my lips and quieted the sounds.
A mouth met mine and took my words away.
Every syllable and vowel slowly faded.
As each sound lingered,
A voice, speaking my language, said,
I hear you.
I know your intentions.
I understand.
Speak without fear.
Speak honestly and
rest here, open and true
free from worry.
my longing for physical pleasure
and the sense of real connection came back.
With the language we both understand,
the language we share together,
We can show each other who we really are.
We will trace letters with our tongues,
and with soft breaths on our necks, we will write our stories.
the snow
The snow
had fallen overnight.
I was asleep.
I was away.
Somewhere far away.
Why always
away?
empty air
How does my breath
get taken by yours?
When I speak,
you seem to draw out the marrow
from my words.
If my words come from fear,
you take in the shadows.
If they come from longing,
then I am left holding only
the remains of desire.
Is this
how we share?
Breath at the core,
yet I am
grasping at empty air.