will

i prayed
& asked ‘what am i to do’–

She gave me a stone
in my chest firm
& undeniable.

She said

I give you your will.
your will is yours
& yours alone--
in Me
you know where to go
for I have taught you
to read maps
I have taught you
navigation.
isn't this why
you are called here, after all?
for no matter where you go
you have your own will to return to.
it will not waver
in storm or sea
it will not tumble 
to the four winds
it will not be shaken
by the cares of the world.
listen to your truth.
don't you know
the music of its voice by now?
hasn't the world shown you hunger?

haven't you scavenged for morsels
the forests deep and dark--
haven't you slaked your thirst
in the cold waters within?
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dear dreamer

the world needs its story-tellers
dreamers
lovers
wordsmiths
artsmiths
quiet helpers
kindness-doers
flower-pickers
letter-senders

creators of all sorts
walks
shapes
& sizes.

If you are one of these
yield to yourself
& the creativity that lives
in you--

do not hold out the world.

for it needs your gifts
it needs your love
it is thirsty for your joy.

two kinds of fear

there are two kinds of fear:

one tells you to turn on your heel, honey, and walk away.

this type of fear whispers you know better.

the other is a big, fat neon arrow pointing toward your dreams.

with this type of fear, you’re petrified, but you sense something delicious in your soul, something that’s begging to be brought into the world.

trust your heart to know the difference.

victory

rejoice
in your heartache’s
resurfacing.
in that moment
long ago
you had not the strength
to bear the pain
meant to be yours alone
so you hid it away
until
today.
accept the confirmation
of your unconscious
for finally
you have passed the test.
feel it throb in every fiber
& know you will not break.
this has always been 
about power—
seize it.
you are the agent
of your own momentum.
the moment you embrace it
& declare “this, i can
abide”—
its hold upon you
will ease.
all this time it has waited
for your surrender.
allow it in every atom
& stand victorious
among the wreckage of what
used to be.

instinct

when birds sing
are they aware of their audience?

or do they simply sing
because they know they must?

be the bird you hear through your window
who doesn’t know you’re listening.

sing
not because someone is listening
but because you know you must.

you never know whose ears your song will reach
& you may never find out.

perhaps it is better that way.

home

we all know 
this place
some of us remember it
some of us imagine it
but we all know it just the same
it’s more than a place to lay aside
your burdens by the door
& it’s more than the face
you say goodnight to
it’s the place your heart aches for 
when you can’t understand what it’s saying
you know you’re close when you 
feel it leap in your throat or
your chest or your gut
when your chest buzzes 
& your bones sing
it's the one place in the world 
where nobody can give you directions
but you meet someone & you can smell it on them & your skin 
tingles & you know they will lead you closer & what’s more
they will have no idea