My love for you is suspended between time and admiration.
I'm dancing to give you the words.
Words will come later feeding off the nectar of this rhythm.
For now, here is a sweet hush that sounds like the mist rising at dawn.
My body remembers; the movement like a fire dance.
Voiceless and fury.
Furious and gradual.
The restless dust follows my lead,
Here, I am comfortably nameless. No one sees my scars. My discolored past- invisible.
These imprints are tribal marks with stories of initiation that I rightfully claim with each pounding heartbeat.
Here, I can love the only way there is to love.
Like how the rocks cradle the tide pools, giving life and home.
The bounty of my flesh has been liberated like a thousand starlings drifting together magically.
In cycles. In secret.
My love for you is serene madness.
Sewn loosely around the edges so that everything eventually flows out
staining all who come too close.
Forever marked. Love this dance like a vine that clings.
It is holding you. It is with you.
Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail by moments, stories and synchronicities.
I write about...