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Tuesday


 We stand on the outside, holding hands, looking in at our life. My soul feels listless, filled and empty all at once. Our home is starting to take on the feel of lived in. I like how it looks from afar. I have this knack of never fitting into the roles I am placed in. I am satiated, but my stomach won’t stop growling for more.

 I need to feel the sudden rains of change that will flood out my fears of stagnant waters. I need to be on the side of an unknown mountain in an unknown desert eating a watermelon, spitting the seeds to the sky and laughing while I watch the moon rise. I need to Wake Up in a tree, wearing every article of clothing I own, because the salty breeze is cold. I need to move.

 This is the waiting season, where my unripe goals hand with the mangoes, crying for the summertime sun. This is the waiting season where I pace in the ever shrinking circle called Mundane, and exhale question marks. This is the waiting season where I dare not break the skin of my dreams until I can smell them from the ground.

 This is the waiting season, this is the waiting season, this is waiting season. And all I have to do is hold out. 

Force

Force
Pushed me
Up

And now
I’m diving
Too the depths
Of my womb
From here
I can see the light
That makes its way
Through my mouth

And I wonder
How long
How far
Will I swim
For the horizon line
That limits my eyes?

Will I gasp for breath
When I hit the shadow
Of the moon
In noon day sun?

If I was to climb
Up the mountains
Of my ribs
And stand on my tongue
Holding my heart
Would you look away
At the sight of my insides
Out?
Or, would you play
In the ripples
I leave on your shore? 

Fear

On my off time
I am just like you
I bather in tepid waters
Shallowed by facades
And murky
With the heartache
Of nostalgia

But
I cut off my fear
In order
To stamp out
The limitations
Of your expectations
And instead
I’ll braid back
Your fear
Of never knowing
What I am thinking

You see,
I see,
Past the perimeter
Of my eyes
Past the beyond
Of the greater beyond
And if you try
To pin me down
With your arrow of doubt

I’ll still weed your gardens
Plant your beds
And bottle my tears
To drench your soils

I’ve been growing
Into my smile
And it
Is wide

My dimples
Are the exclamation
On either side
And

If you like
I’ll let you kiss them
And pretend
I am what you want
To see
What you want
To be

Girl-woman
Daughter-sister
Lover-wife
Mother-muse
Exotic black
Who speaks
White

You will never know
You will never see
That I am watching
You
Watching me
And I don’t
Need permission
To let out your braids
And walk away. 

He Let The Rain In

I had to use my imagination
To remember
That there
Are
Other ways to
Be
I’m learning how to recall
And know for myself,
This,
That my blanket of
Security
Is weaved together
By millions of moments
Yearning
To be cut
By the splinters of
Change
And that I would rather
Wear the fringe
Of experience
And lick my wound
Till it scarred
Than never
Not know
I want invite you
To bring your brush to my painting
And in turn
I’ll let you run your fingers run along my edges
And swim in my abstract
Alongside my currents of color
And just for a moment
You will forget
That you are the one
Bringing me
To life
That you are the author
Listening for the words
As you look to the sky
Waiting for them to rain
In the buckets you’ve left out
And always promising
To fix that hole
In your roof.
That you thought
You could thatch
By dipping into my eyes
And glimpsing my mother
In the intensity
That burns you alive
And just for a moment
I will remember
That you are the one
Bringing me
To life
As I whisper my request
Freedom.
Even if it means
You will no longer
Let in
The Rai

Real Facts

“We’re here” comes from the drivers seat as we pull in front of the airlines, and I slowly finger my seatbelt, wanting to draw it out for just a moment.  Mekila, eager, jumps out of the front passenger seat and grabs his luggage out of the trunk. And then all three of us, Kalani, Mekila and I are standing under those unflattering white lights, where you just cant hide and I feel even more see through than usual.

 Mekila reaches down to hoist first his bulging backpack over his thin frame and then struggles for a moment to fit his guitar case over that. “No I have to get used to doing it myself,” he refuses when Kalani, steps forward to give a hand, and so we both wait until his packs are securely in place.

 I step forward first and since my arms are just not big enough to encircle all the way around his body and bulging back, I grab the sides of his coat and we hold each other close. I cry then in the neck of his wool sweater as my baby brother whispers all the reasons why he’s proud of me.  Our chests are pressed tight and I can feel his heart beating so fast it flutters into mine, and then it’s Kalani’s turn.

 I’m worried, scared and so proud in that fierce way that I can only imagine a mother could feel. It hurts so good. My baby brother is stepping out, into the world at large. No destination, just $1000, his guitar and one backpack, with all his belongings.

 These are real facts, and because of this I need one more hug. I need to remember the strength of his hands. I need to remember the feel of his heart, pulse sparked on the unknown. And because these are real facts, I can let go. 

What We Offer

 We offer our love 
 Wrapped in shame 
 Expecting to be set Free 
 By another 

 We look at each other 
 One eye steady 
 While the other 
 Blinks feathered streaks 
 Of grief 

 Stop! 
 This is not the way 
 Start again Here 
 In the un-comfort 
 Of your own 
 Bone marrow and skin 

 Now 
In the shade 
 Of your own 
 Pain 
 Start again 
Today is the day 
 There is no other way 
 And the world will not change 
 For you 

 Tear it down! 
 Peel, strip, shed 
 Tear it off! 
 Shame, guilt, remorse 
Tear 
 Into the pit 
 Of your Stomach 
 That growls 
 For praise and approval 
 Start again 
 Here 
 Shudder In the un-comfort 
 Of your self 
 Small and un-forgiven 
 She 
 Is 
 You 


 And Now 
 Steep in the potential 
 Of your own 
 Growth 
 Bring action! 


 Observer, 
 Walk back 
 To yourself 
 In 
 To yourself 


 Revel in 
 Your capabilities 
 They extend 
 Past your walls 


 Offer 
 Your love 
 Free of charge 


 Offer 
 Your love 
 Stand bare. Exposed 


 Offer your love .

The Dirt Road Is Home

I love
Waking up on Thursday mornings
To the scratch of his chin on my back
And when there’s a breeze
We are wrapped in India
With a little one on either
Ocean
Tree on tree
And the smell
Of love baking

I love
The fire
Of sun to sea
That leaves me
Falling
And all I can smell
Is a dirt road
Waking up grass

With snow on the ground
And the slow sound
Of wood, Red

When I wake
In a circle
She is holding me
And when it is morning
She gave me roses
Carved in wood

And all I could feel
Was a dirt road
Calling me home

I awoke
With snow on the ground
And the slow sound
Of wood, Red

I rose out of comfort
To be alive

To climb my towers 

Of leaves and sticks
Tree on tree

To find a better view
Of our limbs
Changing
Now wrinkled
I wish I’d pressed them
Green

We are dying
And I can hear
A dirt road
Calling me home

In the fleeting
We call our symphony
I leave my reverence
In She

I choose to track
My sun home
Watching the horizon
Cry goodbye

I was asleep today
And when I awoke
Eyes closed
Head to feathers

I was in a circle
Walking
My dirt road
Home. 

That's Right

We like in America, Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, The Consumer, The Obese. 
Call it what you like. It doesn’t change the fact that We live here.

 I live here.
 You live here. 


 That’s right, We!
We right here, right now lend ourselves to the collective called America. What are 
you doing about that?

  Are you denying?
  Are you ashamed?
 Are you doing nothing, saying nothing as you sew Canadian flags across your back 
and stomach over your mouth?
  Are you crying, “oppressed, silenced!” to your smart phone?
  Are you fulfilled when it brings up facebook?

 Now hold on just a moment before you start feeling defensive, before I go on you 
should know this.
  I point these words at myself first.
  I ask you to hold me accountable.
  I live here.
  I am American, Canadian too for the record, but that doesn’t matter, because I live 
here, in America – Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, The Consumer, The Obese.

Once upon a time I was proud to pledge allegiance to the flag. But now?! 
Now,
  I am ashamed that this country is blind
  I deny
  I do nothing
  I say nothing, because that would be taking Responsibility in The home of The 
Brave.
So, I ask you comrades, to look at me, measure my worth, hold me accountable.
  I am looking forward.

 I want to be an American, who knows another language, another culture.
 I want to be an American who changed the ideals from consuming to knowing, Just Enough.
 I want to be an American who travels not as a tourist but as a local.
 I want to be an American who shares with lowered eyes of respect, because no one, not even us, encompasses another’s Truth.
And then
 I want to forget everything that I just said.
 I don’t want to be all of these things just because I am an American.

 I want to be these things because it is the way to BE.

 I want to forget that there are small dotted lines in our minds separating countries,  
color and creed.
 That’s right, in our minds!

We live here
 I live here

That’s right, WE. We right here, right now, lend out selves to the collective called   
The World. What are you doing about that?
Are you denying?
Are you ashamed?
Are you doing nothing, saying nothing as someone burns their plastic, because that 
would be rude?

 Hold me accountable!
Get Defensive!
Get Angry!
I am looking forward. 

You Must

Life, it’s messy,
like two tongues meeting for the first time.
So listen up, I have something to tell you, and I don’t like wasting my breath.

Simply because you are human, you need to know this;
You matter.
And not in that sappy way your mother was obligated to say.
You, energy  that has taken form
You matter.

There's something Big happening in the world right now and I don’t like it!
People! So many people!
Not looking, looking but not seeing, seeing but not believing,
And then finally the worst, pretending to believe, but upon second glance…

So anyways, I believe. There's a bigger picture here, it extends past the boundries you think you don’t believe in.
Lets take a closer look
At the way we position our cups, our purses.
I don’t even have to think about the careful way I set my form next to yours,
That’s how built in these boundries are.

And I’m telling you, women, it’s bigger than this!
I believe the missing link is
We are not understanding, the importance of the power of our humanity.
Feel free to take notes, because I want you to remember.
You matter!

I dare you to go to war with yourself.
Utilize the anger from your father, and the lost passion from our mothers.
Eat a man for breakfast,
Spit him out at lunch.
Don’t have a man,
Ride a bicycle
Hard
Till your thighs burn.
Tell you secrets to a flower
 And walk away.
Were all hurting, so hold out your hand

Share the hope that has kept you here.

Dance naked so that you may feel the weight of your woman,

Please
You, energy that taken form
Set yourself Free!

So that the next time someone asks
The dreaded question “how are you?”
You have the fierceness to look them in the eye.
You have the truth to share.
They want to know
I want to know.
I want to know that you believe that
You Matter! 

I Am Your Queen

Sometimes
I want to be bound
And 
Feel the pressure 
Of my breasts tied down

But then I’ll hear the whisper
Of your winds on my hips
And when I hold out my hands
I feel rain

Delicate boned fingers
Feather soft
Bloom my color
I am hand painted 

And in the waking day
I reflect of our evening spun 
Webs that drip with the dew of our
Words
Smoke heavy
Threaded through the air

I am barefoot Eve
Muddy deep
Petal soft
Honey suckled exotics
Bloom my scent

Earth 
On a sunny day
Chocolate warm

And because of this
You arrive
By foot

To kiss my erotic
Mi Schatezli 
To blind me with the 
Sundial 
Of your eyes

To witness me
 Wide
Unblinking 

To bare my leaves
Strip my bark
Water my roots
Climb my limbs

Storm this soul
For I shall survive
I know no other way

Inhale me in the crevice 
Of your C shaped form
And I’ll exhale your heat into the 
Knot 
That is our fingers 

Let me taste your dreams
On the palate of my tongue

Doe shy, panther cold
I’ve arrived 
Mi Schatezli 

The Ocean 
Has lent me her waves
Salty sprays
Sea shelled navel
Umbilical 

I’ve arrived 
Mi Schatezli 

Kneel
I am your Queen 

Jessica

You and I
Hand to hand
Mirror

These eyes, wash your lies ashore
Leaving scents for
One another
Girls in heat

Territories toes
Your smell brings salt to my eyes
Strong, pungent

Sickly sweet
To the point of
Soured

I want to kick you
Ripe
Breasts, tended for the picking

Your heart
Round in my bed
Lust
In my feathers

I want to
Hang you
Body with clothes

Slip you on for a day
Sun to stars

You’re in my flow
Eight red moons time

Fingers that bring your mouth
To my cup

Sip me bitter
You’ve licked my mother’s plate
Barren

Feet to my prints
Heel on foundation

But don’t you see
These hands are
Cemented
To what you crave

Weep for the love you offer
Trespasser
Your shallowed waters are murky

Dream of my
Widowed peak to my pillow

Wake to call me
To wonder of our hands braided

We sit here, across
Loud in our silence
Bring me your ear if you dare!

Throat unclenched
Tongue let wild

Blister, callouse
Desert soul
Parched

Let the storm
Fill your hollows
And aching reservoirs

Drink from your well
Not of mine

Knock at the door with colour of your own
And now, we are paralled
Equaled in stance

Come
Stand among my forests
On paths of respect

And in return
Ill blow a rippled wind

Softened by
Forgiveness 

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