The Mother

The Mother will call us home, to rest our weary bodies in her welcoming hands. She will sing us a lullaby, one that we know from the stars, and we will find the peace that we were unable to find in life.

I will know her by the softness of her call, and the way the wind will blow warm though it will feel like a cool night. I will find her eyes, ever-knowing, blinking into mine. Then I will stretch out my hand, close my eyes, and let her guide me to where I belong.

When she calls, and she calls for all, I will hear it as though a baby in the womb. The melody will sink into me, encase me, fill me up. I will cry and I will smile and I will know she’s there to comfort me.

would it be the end?

At the end of the world,
we’ll sit in the quiet burning
while the winds tear the trees
they used to love
and the stars crash to the earth
they used to pay no mind
and maybe everything
will still not make sense
but I bet
a hundred past lives
that I wouldn’t regret
spending the last few moments
with you

weather magic

The changing of seasons and the weather growing colder, it’s like a burst of a dead light inside. It reminds you to open your eyes, else miss the change. 

It’s come fast this year and the leaves have already mostly changed and fallen. The rain has decided it belongs next to the wind and the only thing I can find myself complaining about is the time I have to spend inside, not able to enjoy the atmosphere. 

I wrap myself in cocoons of warm blankets and sweaters, and hope I will have changed come the warmer months a while away. I’m in no hurry to get there but I do hope I reach it.


you’re covered in gold
and you shimmer so brightly
like a statue, like a god,

but it’s just paint
and when it chips it shows the
dull black underneath

it will never cross your lips,
but you know it’s the rot that fills you
and the paint does nothing but keep it


the exhaustion sets in

through the dark, cold water
I try my best to swim up
the air seems so far away
but if I could take a step back,
I could see it right out of reach

I can breathe
but I’m still so cold,
and I thought it would be
better out of there

but my skin’s blue
and I can see my breath that’s struggling
to find the exit of my lungs
but there’s no fire here
there is no warmth

almost a riddle

I am so quick to hold on
on to the past
a love
a hurt
a memory
and my hands get so tired
my fingers so weary
but I hold fast
because I never learned how to let go
and it is the silver-lining curse
I am blessed with


I see you for your shielded eyes
and your cold gaze
the language of your body
is uninviting and as distancing as possible
without force
and I will listen
because I know there’s more in the way
your eyes speak about the world
than I could begin to grasp
and still the ‘no‘ I imagine
leaves me breathless

some times

so she falls apart
over and over until
there’s a mound of pieces
littering the floor
and no one’s there
to pick up the mess
and she thinks,
as she’s pulling one tiny grain
by tiny grain,
that it’s for the best
she doesn’t want to get stuck in the air
or on clothes, the bottom of shoes
she just wants to be
until like a magnet
she sticks herself together again
one messy puzzle
ready to fall apart again
and again

because we deserve it

the moon shines and finally do we allow
ourselves to hit our knees, let down our guard
and we don’t just pray,
but we wish and plead and beg
for anything more than this
to stop having to be strong
to stop from feeling like we’re not enough
because we’ve spent so much time,
decades and centuries, millenniums,
not being good enough
for anyone
and we just don’t want to fight anymore
we just want it

I wouldn’t ask for it

I wait for the call home
a golden light shining on the porch
to let me know there are arms waiting

immediate forgiveness
and no questions asked

yet nothing but the darkness stares back

a light inside goes out
and the stillness stings like a burn
and I don’t forgive myself, either