Poetry

Worthy

We don’t have to convince the world

that we are worthy

of their love hearts.

We only have to convince ourselves

that we are worthy

of our own.

woman smiling
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
Advertisements
A Blog a Day in May

The Stars Inside

The human might do well

to remember

that the body is an instrument

which can only be played perfectly

by the stars

that live inside of it.

silhouette of two person standing during nighttime
Photo by Yuting Gao on Pexels.com

 

 

A Blog a Day in May

The Soft Girl and The Book

The brownie is delicious. The coffee is fine.

And, for the first time in a good little while, I am at a cafe, sinking into a booth seat, quietly reflecting on the peace of it all.

I’m the soft girl today. She’s the part of me that I choose—quite fiercely so—because the soft girl is anything but soft. She’s gentle and kind, and yet she’s capable and strong. And she’s safe, the part of me that feels most like ‘home’.

She made me buy a book, today, the soft girl did. It’s beautiful. A paperback, with a silvery-white cover and the title: Women Who Run With The Wolves: Contacting the Power of The Wild Woman, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. A quote from Maya Angelou decorates the bottom. It says: ‘Everyone who can read should read this book.’

The book had whispered to me from the shelf—or, perhaps the soft girl had whispered me to it, I can’t be entirely certain. And even though it was only visible via the spine, I plucked it quickly from its little cave and read the blurb.

I wasn’t going to buy a book. It wasn’t on my radar, not at all. But as soon as I read what this beautiful, silvery book was about…the soft girl touched me and began whispering me her careful words: ‘This book will change your life.’

So.

I bought it. It sits beside me, in my laptop bag, waiting for me to breathe it in— which I will do tonight, as soon as I have found a cup of steaming tea and a nice big blanket.

I suppose it might be a wonderful book.

And, if it is, if the whispers of the soft girl were true in all their wistfully tender encouragement…my life is about to change.

I’d imagine that might be a very nice thing.

potted succulent plants on the bookshelf
Photo by Huỳnh Đạt on Pexels.com
Life

Life

Today, I feel it all.

Life.

Rushing beneath my skin, burning in my bones.

It’s an ache, I feel.

A beautiful wind that moves through my body and clutches at the spaces all around me.

Life.

It’s an ache I’ve always sought to understand.

An ache I never will understand.

An ache.

A life.

A dream to be everything I am.

A longing to be nothing I am not.

casual cheerful daylight friends
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com