perhaps his heart
is too bright
for your boxy, measured world
perhaps his wonder
isn’t brandable
in your tight space, rat race
bullies come
and bullies go
(they tend to find each other)
love remains
truth remains
(free the boxes)
I lead a writing workshop at a local shelter for homeless women. I usually come prepared with prompts but this last Friday, I didn’t. I felt like being spontaneous. I picked up the supplies at the front desk and went to the activity room. One of the women asked for the green notebook to write…
her broken wings find reparation cage door ajar the songbird finds her song in the last whispers of winter
when i am swallowed up in my own pain when people are here but not here when i am overwhelmed by the needs and expectations of people who want me all to them themselves to be their balm to be an audience to be what they need… i look for a way out and then…
I hear songbirds and the last, dying breaths of the cicadas.
When we become slaves to our machines, we lose our humanity. Let’s not let that happen. Love. Touch. Feel. Emote. Express. Commune. “Conformity and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men and of the human frame, A mechanized automaton.” ~Percy Bysshe Shelley
A friend of mine recently told me, “You know, Kymberlee, you will find a man who treats you with the respect you deserve when YOU know you deserve it.” I know it’s true. My spiritual teacher, Matt Kahn, once said in satsang that our bodies and the hearts that inhabit them are works of art….