• Michaela


Gathering the pieces, sorting them out color by color

Finding all the edges and now I think I'm at the sky

Filled with silver-lined cumulus clouds drifting and The blue of my true love's eyes and I'm soaring

At a loss

I don't know how to navigate here, with the stars

In my eyes and the sun in my heart and the wind

Under my sailing self

Where are the edges? What are the rules?

I need to know so I can stay,

So I can keep from erring

And as my panic rises I grasp for straws, flailing,

Plummeting under the weight of waiting

For the storm to hit. And then it doesn't.

He keeps loving me, gentling me, keeps looking at me like

I'm the moon

And my fall's arrested while I try to figure

Where the next piece fits.


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I have heard that there are people Who manage the motions of their lives Without the days when it hurts To choose and also to be still And that in their stillness they do not tremble And their throats

Evolving Consciousness

You killed the me I would have been I took the hurt like water takes stones Whether pebbles or boulders they all sank Left their ripples fading, but sank And I ran like a river Singing and sparkling s

World on Fire

Beauty. Fire looming and smoke pluming and all Isee is beauty Through metal eyes that cannot cry and I make myself a stone Skipped across the creek sunk in its bed, too weak To douse, and the wind pic

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