The morning, she breathes.
Filling her lungs with a smoky haze,
Hardwood and habitat surrender to her existence.
The light of day is faded in the thick air.
Filtering through a grainy image,
The golden glowing radiance of everything is only seen in closeness.
Trudging towards something,
Brighter, better, only understood in dreams.
The river of my emotions crashes inside my chest wall.
The current flows from head to heart to stomach.
The root of my seat stills my thoughts and allows me to feel.
The river is life.
My guiding current.
Sitting in darkness is something entirely its own.
I let my heart sink into the blackness, the depth, the pain, the grief, the sorrow, the despair.
The feelings ricochet off my fragile bones.
Siren darkness draws me deeper, how deep does it go?
In the flood of sadness and hurt, my chest begins to well up with life and humanness.
I am messy and imperfect.
But I am trying.
I begin to see the light flickering in the depths of despair.
That light is me.
I begin to find myself once again amidst the turbulent throes of change and discomfort.
I know what passion feels like.
To reconnect to that is why I am writing.
To let life and light pour from my fingertips like rain from a cedar during a midsummer storm.
I am the witness that sees.
I am a healer.
I am a lover of life.
I am an answer to a question I do not yet know.