Vulnerability is not weakness, nor brokenness, it is a deep strength because it is fierce self honesty. Vulnerability IS courage.

*Artist unknown, words my own.


With tenderness and deep deep heart rooted firmly in my soul, drinking nourishment of its milk, I luxuriate in me. Let the stories roll of my back like dew on it’s way back to the stream.
I trust me.

Art unknown, words my own.

As I sit in the deep scathing cruel and isolating experience of deep judgment of my person, I look around me connected to my deep wonder of it all. Present to what people must feel when I judge them being so right about what I think they are. How cruel it is. Sitting here with backs turned on me with righteous arrogance fueling their own disgust in their stories and perceptions of me that in fact are not me. Sitting here watching it all with wonder. The judgments sharp, pretending clarity yet instead justifying exclusion and walls. Musing the reactions in my body, the feelings that show up, looking to make sense of it all. Humanity is very cruel. Very cruel. I am glad I have me.

*Artist unknown, words my own.

I bloom in the presence of my heart
With the love I am
Fervent in being
With sight of my open soul
Pouring into my cupped hands
Landing on my knees
Splashing onto the crowns of my feet
Seeds tumbling into rich soil
Sprouting into thicket
Feasting on temple grounds

Artist unknown, words my own.

I Dare.

I dare
I dare
From the tendrils dipping
Into the forever green
To the limp in my irreverent ideal
I dare
To traversing the wet sands of my darkest recesses
Ripping myself out of quicksand by hand
The threads around my waist frayed into
A skirt of carnival
I face my delay
And I dare
I wink at lists posted on the parchment of my axis
Scribbling madly for my attention
I question suggested ink
The wilderness blowing through me
It knows me
I dare.

Artist unknown, of Taino Chief Yuiza

The Pregnant Silence Of My Soul

What happens when I no longer run from the silence that haunts
Like a ghost clinging to my form chewing my breath
When I stop in the cringe of query of understand
And unfurl the recoil
When I strip apart the seems of ribboned voice
Cascade as the caricature drips bleeding down my forearms
As I no longer care for the rights of wrongs
No matter how many petals are used to sing them
As I breathe the wind from the woods of formed notes
What happens when I no longer press my nose to the window pane leary with the drinks of approval
When the outcries stop shaking my bones
When the fire no longer burns it fortifies me
As the resin aches across the air begging my surrender
What happens when I Iisten in the silence that has before scraped my knees and drowned me under
And I meet it with the pregnant silence of my soul
What happens is I touch down
And I live.

*Photo and Model unknown