Fae-Word

She whispered it’s in us—an earthly angel, fae-word, always connected to nature, her hum rhythm inside, twinkling, magnetic.

Wild in His Image

God never told anyone we must all shape square and sit down.

I can appreciate this fear I’ve held dissolving and being replaced with a devotion to being real, human, and happy to be here.

My need for love is holy.

She wore red to church, thin cotton the light peeked through to her ivory slip, mystery’s kiss.

I dance humility’s grace, one foot in pain’s echo, the other in rapture’s pulse.

I love how pain breaks way to relief, and how I grow and learn best in liminal spaces.

I’ll justify my thievery as need and still ask you to hold me close, wearing something of yours just because I can.

Bearing testimony of the moment hearts resonate in.

My grandmother. She was a success for being exactly herself and following her loves.