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.

 

 

Holly

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From bones grow thorns

And stems of might pierce tender skin

Fingers pricked so often by the holly

Now branches shelter my tangled heart

Movement seems futile

For where shall I go?

Remembering there is life in still

And below me

Where rivers of blood run through root valleys

Flooding holy lands

Are reached by prayer alone

Unbeknown to me

As I believed my own silence

But circling disbelief is the frailty of breath

Naked yearnings born from womb

And resting upon the riverbank

Where I dreamt my own reflection

Are shards of dust

Stones, once grazing palms

Thrown to disperse clouds in water

Rippling through being

To her I return

As glossy leaves embalm my spine

Shooting up to catch the sun

I am bare

Harvesting berries before they fall

I am the strength of her

And the death of her too