there was once a day
when i too
was uncertain about unfolding.

i have been breathing
in tiny spaces
between all that needs me.

tonight,
i do not want another breath
measured in minutes.

i want the window open.

i want the aliveness
of the night on my skin.

i only allowed myself a sliver
of the pain.

to feel it all might have shattered
the sky above me,
sent it down in shards.

i opened the sieve,
felt the ache flow through me,

a silent trickle at a time…

winced as it deepened,
rushed to turn it off

just in time

before my held breath became two,
and evermore.

it’s almost 9 p.m.,

and there is one single bird
singing
like the sun is about to rise,

a song out of place,

or perhaps
right on time

for a world
that has forgotten
how to dream
at night.

i smile
and cheer her on.

keep going,
my love.

be all that i dream
of being.

perhaps
it wasn’t a bird
after all.

perhaps

it was a word

too wild
to sleep,

too brave
to wait
for morning.

i am only
a single leaf,

caught by the wind,
carried
by the currents
of this

hectic,
heartbreaking,
beautiful,
ordinary life.

what are

the truest words

you have spoken?

the ones

that tasted
like truth

and fear

at the very same time.

did you whisper…

or shout?

i walk barefoot into the story of
ancestors who never knew my name,
never even dreamt me into being.

yet i carry pieces of them inside me.

i cannot trace the lines back,
only echoes,
carried quietly
from one heartbeat into another.

i am learning
to see the beauty

even in the sorrows
that bring me
to my knees.

every ounce of pain

plants
wildflowers
in my heart.

my favorite part of the day
is not the loud brilliance
of sunrise.

the whisper

the soft, slow change
from night to day.

the moment
when the crickets
and the birds
sing together,

and the moon,
still keeping watch
as morning finds the earth.