at dusk cartwheels on the grass sister teaching sister with ubuntu the crunch of dried autumn leaves fading red sun shimmers on the river pink cheeks hair tumbling wildly we watch our breath appear on the exhale moments woven together with great laughter and love in autumn bliss
liminal woman peering into unseen spaces (swimming) stripping bare hidden agendas (treasure in truth) delighting in the scent of autumn and violent rain crashing against (everything) stirring love and spice into her soup (and life itself) greeting the light embracing the darkness (like a lover) liminal woman seeing only circles smiling at the boxes (illusory)
reading her my poetry about a man with a swagger ‘neath red flame chandeliers (and comparing notes) circular narratives about life and gypsies and making sense of men (and ourselves) a text to her lover in a moment of mischief fueled with red wine (and some flirting) “I think she’s trying to get me drunk,”…
the girls and me from the archives “Life is filled with suffering, but it is also filled with many wonders, like the blue sky, the sunshine, the eyes of a baby. To suffer is not enough. We must also be in touch with the wonders of life. They are within us and all around us,…
My things arrived today in a box from an address and handwriting I didn’t recognize. (funny that) A shirt I didn’t know he had, another shirt that holds fond memories, and the book, “Being Peace”. (and indeed I am) Remembering the good and letting the rest dissolve. Letting go. Wishing goodness. Being peace.
you live in a box made of limits, rules and pain perhaps you like it