king of anything.

you walk across the earth
as if you were the king of anything
feel the ground beneath you fall away with
your every move, your every step;
courage of the lion, with your mane of power
you move with the trees, as if you knew their sway
do you climb across the moors and the valley
and close your eyes when the sky bows to you,
presents you with stars brighter than your light
so that you may see in the darkest of nights?
do you own this feeling, of living without fear,
and hold it to your heart, like a child in your arms
feel its pounding heartbeat against your own
the rhythm of two together, like a melody?
you walk as if there is a crown atop your crown
as the sun, burnt out, shimmers and falls down
with strength, you walk into the ocean, into the sea,
and then into all the unimaginable things that could be,
and you place your footprint on its soil,
claiming this piece of the sullen world as your own
still shining as the moon once shone.

quiet women.

i am a quiet woman
i come from a line of quiet woman
Too scared to open our mouths
And let out what we
think & feel, deep & sure
But still,

We hold the words back
&clasp our hearts in
our chests
Bite our tongue
&just
let it go, (No need
to start a fight)

But,
For my my daughter, I want more
I want her to know
&be sure
Hold her head up,
Be loud and proud
&keep her feet rooted to the ground
Feel the power of the earth
In her every move
Because she is an equal,
no matter what any
man should say

Because she is beautiful
Now&Will be
beautiful as a woman,
an unquiet woman
who can create storms

away from the sun.

At night, I run out from the house barefoot. I feel the cooling grass under my feet, slightly wet and dewy from the afternoon rains. I feel the damp soil of the earth beneath me, curling in between my toes. I feel rooted then, in this moment, with just me and the moon and the damp, damp earth. I imagine myself cocooned within a tree, wrapped in wispy twigs and the brittle old bark. Encased in the solid oak trunk, feeling more condensed as the number of rings of bark increases with age. The roots, thick and branching, reaching into the cooling earth for some relief from the balmy air of the night. I am bundled, nestled, held, nurtured -- away from the world in this one moment to myself. I can think clearly, I can see clearly, and I can feel without any boundaries. I often think I see the world through different eyes. When I see the stark oak in the expansive field, I do not imagine running freely in the grass. I picture myself as old as the tree, standing still and silent, through storm and tempest, through mother nature's wistful cries, through mother earth's sorrowful trembles. I am rooted, bound, and an innate part of the wondrous world.

The leaves, both green and gold, are reaching towards the sun, but I, I am always looking away from the sun. I much prefer the inside of my sturdy tree, cool and calm and collected.