I carefully lay down my words -
these stepping stones towards
our hearts - consciously placing
them in hopes of a sure
foundation instead of the

a domino affect

I seem to have

somehow, you've become
the unintentional gardener -
as you, unawares, prune
impatience from the vines
of my soul, and unknowingly
dig down to the bedrock
of my faith to tap into the
Root

I am more than concerned
with the fact that when I
open my mouth, will I cause
the earth to open up under
your feet, or will a whirlwind take
you up and away?

I am perhaps a little frightened
with the fact that if I
open my mouth, will I cause
information overload that
a circuit in your brain will fuse
and your brain will explode?

I am borderline perturbed
with the fact that I may
suck your entire life story
from your well presented cranium
in a matter of minutes, hours
and days? 

woman - you are Water
soft, soothing, calm
and cool, seep into
the cracks of his being
and move with his bones

woman - you are Earth
movable, malleable, meandering
and solid, vine into
the movement of his breath
and sync with his cells

woman - you are Air
invisible, inventive, invigorating
and fluid, encompass
the very stature of his presence
and abide in his motions

woman - you are Fire
warmth, warring, wondering
and passion, stay lit
within the very embers
of his soul

A tidal wave wants to bursts
forth from these lips and
consume the world around me,
a tsunami of words that will
drown and drench my reality
with a wanted possibility

But I dam these lips
to hold back the force
that wells and swells up
from the four corners
of my bones

and every time I want to speak
I close my lips and swallow...

I am part of a cycle of mothers
where neither taught each other
or me what it means to be WOMAN
I am patch-worked into this legacy
of lost identities of lost girls whose
bodies grew old but their inner child
cries in the corner of their hearts

silence - I am called to this vast
wordless expanse of a desert
where the wind gently touches
my heart's face, as a forest
where greens and browns
weave in and out of my soul

some would call it a dance
of awkwardness, that with
time either falls apart
or finds the rhythm
and jives

some would call it a hunt
where one is the hunter
and the other the prey,
though neither sexes
hold particular true
to either roles

some would call it a game
of peek a boo, I see you
but do you really see me?
until the game stops
and peeking into
souls begins

this is what it's like
to walk the path alone
but not quite alone -

it's a road through a
prairie expanse with nothing
but the gorgeous blue horizon
surrounded by goldenness
reflected from the midday sun

And striding along in the distance
in the horizon clouds are the
mighty trunked legs of a Giant
lost somewhere in the atmosphere
and nothing but His slow massive
moving limbs, with His eyes above
the clouds looking down and
a smile from way above

this is what it's like
to walk the path alone
but not quite alone