During my recent training I focused so much on my training journal that I completely stopped my free form journal (my crazy writing). Yesterday I found my pen to paper again. These wild writings are healing to me, like a written detoxification of my mind. A compilation of thoughts, memories, fantasies, and non-sense. Once I have scrawled them out there is a lovely spacious place for more inspiration to flow. The piece I wrote yesterday had been percolating inside my head for days, I'm grateful for this creative outlet to share my mental brew.
So much I consider the texture of your skin. Only the softness shows your age.
My fingers trace the ridges of your beard, where your face falls into it's own shadow lands.
Touching your cheek exactly where it becomes round when your heart swells up to your mouth in a smile.
I caress your forehead. So youthful, so clear, as if your brow has experienced no furrow.
How childlike you are. Not only in sleep,
your soul is young. Your spirit lingers in frightened infancy.
I thought you would see my frailty as well.
I didn't realize that you were me.
Eternal child mirror, be well my sweet.
Be tender with yourself, you are a soft
and delicate creature.
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1 comment:
Beautiful.
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