Emboldened by belief in forgiveness and peace
I have assembled all the ages I have ever been into this one woman before you.
I’m a wanderer. I have always lost track of time, and thought. I would give my last dime to a beggar on the street with a smile, wishing him well… no care for things I haven’t got.
No time to stop and think when the waters are restless inside of me. When even a flash of light can send me running through our streets at night.
Some call me crazy. Some call me whore.
Their words can rise from the dirt where I stand, pulling at me, trying to plant my feet in the ground, pull my poetry down without a sound.
I am indignant. I am an artist. My syllables pulled from my core do not speak the language of limits… they take my spirit with them… they endure.
I will outlive most of my critics. Its not just an accusation, its a simple observation.
I live inside of love. Unfurled on the floor you will find my words ringing in your ears-
Like a mirror reflects what is shown, I am a light that shines to the bone.
I am refracted by cruelty, but never reduced.
My poetry cuts in, my words a knife, it carves, and you’re seduced.
I am the butterfly whose wings wrap like words around the feet of my foe- intent not to follow- but to lead where you go.
An unbearable lightness of being will break the heart of the still breathing child- but I am their champion. My words cry out for their freedom.
A garden rich in its soil, will feed them. Their bellies full with the dreams they have eaten. I will but guide them with my soft colored wings..