Because- for the first time in her life she felt The world wasn't too much on her skin And as she was showing you how she is most alive Instead- your discomfort of her experience seeped from your walls Because- she wrote and then she took a brave, deep breath as she peeled down the last of her walls And asked you if you wanted to hear the inner parts of her soul Instead- you said "No" Because- while she was rediscovering the joy of mother earth The joy she hasn't felt since a mere child of 5 From the first memory she has of covering up herself lest she make a man lust As the crisp cool breeze touched her warm, damp skin; as she felt the cool evening grass between her toes as the fire warmed the inside of her thighs. Instead- your discomfort escaped into the universe with a single word- weird. Because- inside her soul felt connected to her skin, spilling out into the moonlight And although she trusts herself fully And she is newly raw And instead of welcoming he
Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost track. The moments that string together retreat to retreat have started to run from individual snapshots of memories into a blended, blurry image where a simple glance makes you feel the completeness of community, growth, and complete wholeness. . . Yet as all these moments churn together, they never fail to have an aftermath that is so memorable that it shocks me with its uniqueness each and every time. It’s so routine I’ve come to expect the shock, but am always blown away by the freshness of it each time. Always the same, and yet, somehow….. . . somehow complete anew. It’s always in the Monday morning after, as I sit wide awake, as I sit in the stillness of the early morning hours– in the stillness of the quiet utter darkness that happens just as the night starts to lighten– that’s when it happens. . . My soul explodes. . She overflows my heart and floods through every cell of my body, sometimes spilling from my eyes. . . And the embodim