So, I would spend my free time
Lavishly decorating the rooms of my mind
With thoughts of higher things like love, death, and immortality.
And yet, here I am, a grown woman
Still trying to find myself.
I’m currently engaged in the intricate art of making time for myself.
Candlelight, table set for one
I’m learning to wine and dine myself.
You see, I’m still my harshest critic,
Why can’t I just be kind to myself?
I can easily sing the praises of the quasars and stars,
But I can’t see the beauty in my own constellation of scars.
I blame it on having the untrained eye of a junior space cadet,
Perpetually distracted by a voice inside screaming,
“ARE WE THERE YET?
Are we there yet?
Are we there yet?”
On good days I can hear my Father’s voice inside, he says
“Sit back, relax, and just enjoy the ride. You’ll never arrive while you’re physically alive.”………. And now I understand,
There is no such thing as “finding myself”.
I’m on a journey to daily remind myself, that as a man thinketh so is he.
I think, therefore I am.
The creator of my own destiny.
Self Portrait
She wore deep scars and missing pieces,
Hardened skin, and weary creases.
Can you see who the masterpiece is?
She closed her eyes and saw that She is.
Heliotropism
Wild as the flowers in her hair,
Free as the soul in her eyes.
Creator created. Creation creating.
Wild hair. Free eyes. Flowering soul.
Something new is being created.
Can you feel it?
Hair stands at attention
Fueled by possibility.
Can you taste it?
Lips speak to a parallel universe, alternate reality.
Life and death are in the power of her tongue.
She’s hungry for change, so she speaks.
Can you smell it?
Like fresh rain falling onto an open field of flowers.
Her spirit knows the scent of His Spirit.
He speaks, she hears it on the wind.
Limitless possibilities. No fear.
Grow. And Go.
Go to grow.
No fear.
Wild as the flowers in her hair,
Free as the soul in her eyes.
Thirty-Three
she is wild; she is wind.
she is free; she is fire.
she is you. she is me.
she is sorrow carved so deep, only marrow remains...
she is sadness clothed in skin, poised portrait of pain...
she is earth; she is river.
she is free flowing form.
she is water; she is nature.
she is softest flower, open.
she is tightest bud, closed.
she is pollen, wandering.
she is honey, stuck.
she is mother; she is bearer of life.
she is free from death; she is spirit.
she is being; she is becoming.
...What She is.
Painting A Poet
Smiling in the dark.
The name of my greatest work of art.
Painting a moonlit portrait of self-love.
A Poem in progress...
Embracing the process...
Realizing I am the prize, in this
Candescent contest.
I’m now free to use, the messiest hues
Of Burgeoning Browns and Blossoming Blues.
Every color can be used
In the melodramatic masterpiece, that is me.
That. Is. Me.
This is me.
Smiling in the dark,
The name of my greatest work of art.
Green Prison
Do you see me?
I’m Hiding among the trees,
Unsure how I’ll be received if these leaves
Expose me.
Opposite of Adam and Eve.
Drawn to the beauty of nature
Obsessed with trying to retrieve
What’s been lost.
Regained His presence
But not the essence of spirituality.
Still Ignorant to the duality of this earth life.
I hear His whisper while meditating underneath a tree,
Reconnected with my Heavenly Father
but I’m still searching for me.
Unmasked. Undone.
No energy left to run.
Unmasked. Undone.
I’m still Worshipping the Son.
They think I’m worshipping the sun.
Breath in. Exhale.
Acknowledge, accept, oh well.
Either I climb down, until I’m free
Or just keep hiding in this tree.
Sunflower Seeds
She taught me.
Shadows create beauty too..
No longer afraid of the darkness when I’m with you.
..When I’m with her.
..When I’m with me.
Self-imposed stillness.
Self-Love, richest symphony.
Self-Love, my soliloquy.
Simply loving every piece of me..
Wholly Unafraid in this silence..
This Holy Alliance of Spiritual and Natural..
Embracing the temple..
Empowered by the actual..
Entire Kingdoms living within.
Earth Suit returns to dust..
And Still,