willing to break by Jeanette leblanc

willing to break

We sit on the bed; crossed legs and open hearts. It has been a long night and an even longer morning.  I curl myself around you as you weep.  Shoulders heave and cleansing tears fall.  A truth too long held is released. Confession.  Omission.  Anxiety.  Fear.  Agony.  Comfort.  Compassion. Love.  …

a particular kind of worship

Chaturanga dandasana.  Uttanasana.  Tadasana.  Savasana. My body has developed muscle memories and attached them to the rise and flow of these Sanskrit words.  I bend and straighten, lift and lengthen in response.  I don’t often look to the screen anymore – just the sound of the words and the rhythm …

Moving Me 2.0

Kate Inglis My fellow Maritime girl.  She writes books (real ones).  She takes  pictures (fantastic ones).  She takes care of rude pink-shirt-wearing guys in bar lines (you had to be there).  For sheer talent with words, Kate brings me to my knees every single time. Plus – she’s the only …

to be moved…

{I want to be moved} I want to be moved damn it. so move me move me make me feel push me past my resistance info that wide open space give me something beyond the ordinary beyond what you give to the rest of the world show me your naked …

this is for me

I’m running.  Not fast, but I’m running.  The gravel is loose under my feet and I can feel my left ankle – the weak one – twinge a little.  My chest burns and I know my face is ridiculously bright red.  I want to stop, especially on those low slung …

Let yourself be moved.

Pretend I’m an ancient guru.  Yes, it’s a stretch, but humor me for a minute.  You’ve got a good imagination, and you probably owe me a favor or two.  Come on….put aside your skepticism.  I’ll even help you out. I’m sitting high on a rugged mountain top and you just …

green

It is green here. So very green. I marvel at the layers and layers of emerald, chartreuse, lime, avocado, dark forest, bright apple. My eyes trace the landscape, delighted by the many forgotten shades that exist in the natural world. I am weary of the desert by now.  My eyes grow …

Lyric

6.11.10 (one year ago) The light is the color of wheat this morning.   A dull golden glow, not yet fully committed to the day.   Later, it whispers a promise to pulse and blaze with the heat of the desert.  Right now the light is present but not yet the living, …