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..