What were they? Those words written
quiet and sloping on gentle waters
in their back and forth tides,
an homage to the hanging sliver moon that rested high
cradled in the clouds?
The solitary bird flew into the distant sky unaware,
for me, his quest to be an image unforgotten.
I plucked a single feather
and dipped it in the darkest water,
ink of the world of blue.
The words flowed fast
furiously splayed out with drops,
endless supply abound,
I had an inkwell of salted wetness before me
and I wrote more and more as if in a fever of need,
as thoughts filled in like a tsunami,
the prior vacancy filling up
from the cobwebbed corners to the roof,
spaces were filled to overflowing
these words came forth frantically,
and I stopped for only a moment
as my toes sunk deep in the sand
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A woman came from man’s rib.
Not from his feet to be walked on.
Nor from his head to be superior.
But from his side to be equal,
under his arm to be protected,
and close to his heart to be loved…
Text & image credit: Welcome Home https://web.facebook.com/WelcomeHomeOriginal/
**Image found on Pinterest; text added by Natalie
Not if, WHEN I am well, I will not squander, but should not have needed, a second chance
It will be / It already is / a spiked and harpooned, learning curve
There is humiliation, in not being insightful enough
That it took, being brought to kneel, flayed by horrors, to be grateful enough and find strength
As only when / it’s almost too late / we plead and beg / for one more chance
It is the truer person, who needs no such prompt, but lives rightly, first time around
I am declaring reincarnation and broken-handed, putting myself back together, limb by limb, until even I, do not recognize, the survivor within
She has sore knees from beseeching and a box of unwound screams for keeping
Maybe together, we can shift the albatross, tie on our ice skates, and, leaving bearly visible lines, skate the circumference, to where we…
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