we have weathered this much
~ and even more than this~
you hold all the days inside your silver brain.
you wish for food and call it up from the
deep cells nestled inside of sleeping skin.
stealing seeds from the feeder and planting
them inside the earth, this is your forgetful garden.
it took me so many days to find my courage,
but I smile, because I see how easily you find your own.
your rainbow voice, dissects the grey distress.
you call forward the words and they spill, threading
promises into dark corners of thin days. They
do not pool in your throat, they do not become
a moat beckoning the cruel, hungry serpent.
you will not need a knife to set
your heart free.
you are not violet practiced at fading ~
here let's learn the rules to a new game.
run with the sun settling into your skin,
it will change your colours. waking up
the moon, stirring the tide. open your
arms wide, crash into each new moment
with a story spinning inside your mouth,
with a joyous heart, build your days.
no one else is the carpenter.
when the days grow short, you are the
only storyteller left beside the hearth.
