Craving

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I craved the wild roses, thorns combing my hair as I outran the river

I craved the beast outside my door, roaming for beetroot and rosemary

I craved the red rock, rough canvas smeared with silk like dust. Red clay dug from the belly to quench my skin and soften my thirst

I craved silver reflections, sea caught moons that dance below the surface at night

I craved violins at dawn, trumpets at tea and pianos to soundtrack sun-kissed skies before bedtime

I craved being led to the mountains, to breathe the air so close to purity as I can imagine

I craved wholeness, a fullness so ripe I could taste my own sweet juice

I craved standing in the storm, unafraid, watching the leaves surrender to grey horizons

I craved being fearless

I craved being fearless again and again

I craved because I remember. I remember being fearlessly built inside my mothers womb and the taste of letting go

I craved because I needed to remember

I remember

I remember the river that catches the rosemary and carries the beetroot and plays with the beasts and dances with the moonlight through red rock valleys, listening to sweet tunes played fearlessly by the lips that taste

I remember that all I have craved, all the delicious feelings of worth and discovery and abundant visions of life’s great loves have been closer to me than the end of my fingertips

I remember all the miracles that sculpted me, the love that built me from the inside out

I craved what I remembered to be holy and sacred and now that I remember, I am holy and sacred again.

 

 

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