feather

most days I’m a feather clinging to the wing of a multicolored bird
quivering from the wind, but always returning to the place where I belong
blending and fading with the soft abyss of surrounding comfort, I wait.

some days I’m the multicolored bird piercing the sky
flying with the wind, at such a height that makes my colors melt
into one single, perfect hue, blending into the welcome air, I soar.

but today I am the sky, an expanse filled with possibility, with fear
propelling the wind, but quivering and melting, fading and flying
I don’t leave or return because I’m already here, so I breathe.

to rise

those rows of roses
all sowed just so, sewed
with thread, they were tread
in a path just so

and we ambled through as anglers
searching madly, blindly
through the murk, the dark
in a sea, we couldn’t see

we sang songs in our blindness
forcing fallacy filled fantasies
and what we read in the dark turned red
like those roses

but thankfully with care
we came up for air

above it all,
we rose

seasonal

when it’s dark
too early, and I’m driving home from work
my headlights guiding my car’s path
I always wish for spring
but suddenly I worry
that when spring arrives
and it rains
too much, and I’m driving home from work
my wipers guiding my car’s path
I will always wish for fall

mantra

“you are powerful beyond measure”

my yoga teacher whispered into our expanse of sweaty bodies, all twisted and teetering and balancing on a single leg that had gone numb minutes ago

“you have a special light that shines”

she proclaimed as we bent and twisted and tried to breathe like darth vader while emptying our minds and simultaneously channeling inner peace and oneness with the earth

“you are enough”

we inhaled, we exhaled
and somehow, we believed her