Tired Muscles

Maybe I get a little antsy when things get tough. I clean my ambiance to refresh my aching muscles, especially the heart. Maybe I just want someone to hold my hand, look into my eyes and tell me that there’s company in the mess—the achy mess.

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Intertidal Pools of Sun

Barefoot amidst the movement of lapping, cold waves—a gentle soul walks onward into the ocean. Mangrove branches loop out from the water and marine alluvium soils. Tiny fish grow within the intertidal zone, protected by the plants and disrupted by her calm feet digging into the sand. Hair wild amidst the cool sun rays softly kissing each eye into a deeper caramel hue. The water against her strong ankles as low pools fill and recede into the Earth. Gusts pick up cooling a body flowing in tandem with the ocean waves as the heart connects to the soul of the ocean.

Broken Pottery

I almost lost these pages and for a second my heart felt like it would either stop or break through my chest. It’s in these pages that I heal. These are the reminders that the cracks within me are laced with gold like the ancient Japanese custom of taking what has been broken and making it better. In these words exist my soul and maybe they won’t last forever, but they sure do make me feel whole.

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