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
writing
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 the height of it all
In the height of it all she sees the horizon for the first time after emerging from the underworld, the one she dragged you into. I am the truth, a seeker, with words lined up like the sharp arrows on Neptune's trident. I sharpen my tongue on his steel blade and submerge alongside him, waiting … Continue reading In the height of it all
She is in the earth, she is of the earth
Plunging her hands beneath the earth, she hoped to find something, something to guide them, something to bring them closer to the light. Would this help? She found a secret her great-great grandmother wrapped in a golden whisper. She’d buried it at the base of the mountain the morning she left her prayer book there. … Continue reading She is in the earth, she is of the earth
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.
Life’s partner
On the path ahead of me lay death. Belly up, frozen in time, in fur soft enough to be curious about; I wonder if its fur is still soft? It shook me, the sight of the vole - the sight of its four little limbs, stuck straight up, pointing on up to the spirit in … Continue reading Life’s partner
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
Lingering in snow
A twig fell from the tree shaped like a pen I wrote in the snow drawing lines with my voice the network of roots below the frozen ground mirrored the myriad of crisscross connections above my head disconnecting from the wires that bind us I find myself lingering under the snow drops I stick out … Continue reading Lingering in snow
Made of ink
Writing is in my bonesmy platelets made of words.I write with the pens that are my fingerswaving sigils in the air. I write with the pens that are my fingers; each finger long boneshollowed outthe ink flows throughinspired by the guidance by the stories my body holds.
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.
Angela Mason 