lavender tea and the lightening to listen.

the warrior sets the perimeter,
he does not judge me,
he only ever loves me.

i can be kinder.
i can call the white roses into bloom.

i have known fine things.
net lace and dark mahogany, merlot in crystal.

i have know terrible things,
grenade words and earth too scorched to hold me.

someone i loved, stitched little
birds into linen.  they flew from
the fabric, making nests in her hair.

fledglings feeding from her shoulders.

she knew how to dance and sing.

she knew how to shoulder a loss so great,
it called her back to the beginning.

and in the deepest corners of my wondering,
the heron flies over me.

always.

11:11 and the 7, then the 3 follows me.

15, 15

stops my heart and aches me.

and the red-haired one?

he lays beneath the sunflowers,
and protects me day and night.

not many of us become angels or ghosts,
but he has become both.

a fháil dom? 

ní mór duit teacht ar an ghairdín.