SHE WILL NOT BE MEASURED
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TENDERLY, I HOLD IT ALL
Alders, kissed by a moment of April sun, and only for as long it takes me to do a short meditation, opening red buds into a green haze of fresh leaves high in the forest. I sit and see it all, and am on the edge of tears. My heart breaking for joy.
REMEMBERING THE CROOKED WAYS
...my history with women –and especially the women I've loved– is a history of avoiding the wisdom that comes from this surrender. Avoiding. Or, as I am realizing, actively resisting.
SHE NEEDS TO BE FREE
It's easy to say I want the good and the beautiful, but they are sisters to chaos and unhappiness, ugliness and dis-ease.
BEING ALONE, TOGETHER
Without this distance, it I would be in constant commotion.