As Fall may finally be peeking it's head out...I am ready for it and waiting.
I need the softness it begets in me, the intimacy it summons.
In the mean months of Summer, I swell with confusion,
lost in my body's resistance to stay outward and flit about.
From the dark underbelly of the earth, it grows upwards in a slow crawl of secrecy, seducing us in it's subtle arrival. I lavish it's return.
The sweet smell of plant life sticks in the air, flowing through me and leaving it's trace all around my face. A smile grows; not unlike the smile of a wolf as it walks through a quiet forest.
My soul feels welcomed at last...by something. Home perhaps?
Quieted by the silence it creates as the earth grows calmer, I grow within.
The tension in my sides relax, my heart beats in time with the wind and I feel aligned with the world. Settled.
Fall is coming, can you feel it? It's seeping in.
©10/18/11DanyaMosgofian
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Frozen Web
Something has broken, the web has cracked.
Dried and frozen in time, tendrils that have kept still for so long are tensing up to break free.
In some soft moment passing quickly in time, they speak quietly as if to say, it's safe to let go.
Pull shadows away and a gentle fog rolls in, softening the limbs telling the body there must be more than what has been. But before this can happen, things must be broken, undone.
Things must be ripped and torn into, uncovered in dead spaces so that what lays underneath, can become visible and allowed to breathe. Must and wear can be thrown out, cast into the wind and forgotten but with great effort it will take.
Old becomes uncomfortable, new becomes strangely terrifying and the rest is completely unknown.
Walking out again, wobbly knees and all, steps that have not been written must be taken despite.
Things will grow clear so long as these moments are not wasted upon dizzy-headed memories.
Light will bleed into cold places that have been waiting for warmth long.
The skin warms and muscles soften, then the heart remembers.
Like a soft ungrown animal, the soul lifts itself up and leads the way.
Remember to remember, and give space.
©10/18/11DanyaMosgofian
Dried and frozen in time, tendrils that have kept still for so long are tensing up to break free.
In some soft moment passing quickly in time, they speak quietly as if to say, it's safe to let go.
Pull shadows away and a gentle fog rolls in, softening the limbs telling the body there must be more than what has been. But before this can happen, things must be broken, undone.
Things must be ripped and torn into, uncovered in dead spaces so that what lays underneath, can become visible and allowed to breathe. Must and wear can be thrown out, cast into the wind and forgotten but with great effort it will take.
Old becomes uncomfortable, new becomes strangely terrifying and the rest is completely unknown.
Walking out again, wobbly knees and all, steps that have not been written must be taken despite.
Things will grow clear so long as these moments are not wasted upon dizzy-headed memories.
Light will bleed into cold places that have been waiting for warmth long.
The skin warms and muscles soften, then the heart remembers.
Like a soft ungrown animal, the soul lifts itself up and leads the way.
Remember to remember, and give space.
©10/18/11DanyaMosgofian
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