Standing under her, under the weight she carries under her, under herstanding in one place.Standing under herinstead of chasing her emotions had timeto unravel recalibrate integrate…it was then she was able to witness herself. Under her, standing alone with that one place she had no choice but to accept her as self perfectionism be dammed!No … Continue reading Understanding
poetry
Vulnerability
I can stand now so can my purpose before bowing down to our potential our art I can relax now so can my body my shoulders my breath in our space bound together believing in one another breathing for one another with time given back to me I create with your trust I am endlessly … Continue reading Vulnerability
In balance
...but in balance with all those times I was heavy defensive, hurting and sad, I was also happy. I played silly, I danced, I was funny, you laughed. I was careful tender, nurturing and kind.
Forgiveness
the trees don't judge me the way you do pinning me down to outdated impressions the trees don't scrutinize me the way you do seeing me through a lens that only fits you the trees see me in a way you don't they don't hold on holding on to old stories they bury them like … Continue reading Forgiveness
Answers
Ancient rocks, ancient like glaciation, tumbled through centuries and through time, etched their way into the earth. The wind sounded like water, like waves, pushing though leaves of the highest trees, waving above and so below, all around. A bird repeated a stanza, its song a hollow, echoing. you give me steps to climb to … Continue reading Answers
New spaces
I remind myself you live in my body my right palm placed above my left breast, on my chest where your love lives you bring me back into my body I used to avoid these spacesthe places my body blocked itself locked itself from feeling "She keeps her head in the clouds", they said of … Continue reading New spaces
What the wind wants
What the wind wants ties me to spirit, brushing past my ears she takes me aside wrapping my shoulders in a shawl, yarn spun with cloud, she coos towards me "show them you have something they want."wondering through air, kicking up dirt, I ask the trees for advice what must I do for the power … Continue reading What the wind wants
Bone writing
Fingers like twisted branches reach for a pento write about the lines that fold around her gnarled knuckles dry with age from holding onto stories too longher forearms rest heavyon the smooth white pages of bark as she writes her story with ink made of dirt;lines of language.
Home-ing
Home is where you always areno matter what the weatheror who the bartender is.Home is inside you;you don’t need an apartmentbut you’ll be more comfortable that way.Look for your skeleton keys (you dropped them on the driveway) and pull away the curtain so your shadow can see the light.It’s not a spaceit’s not a placeit’s … Continue reading Home-ing
Angela Mason 