Her shadow replied,

“Darkness is the truth you avoid, and

It yearns for the light.”

Though it was painful to stand

In front of a silhouette of her unhealed pieces

She realized it was merely a part of her

That she had not made peace with

As she held herself in the love of her own arms

Her shadow became a part of her, like

The dusk of the setting sun melting into the night sky

Where Do You Wander?

If I asked you to tell me of heartbreak, your mind would probably wander to a past lover. But the truth is we break our own hearts long before we place them in the shaking hands of another. If I asked you to tell me of grief, you would think of the ones you have lost. The way the pain brings you to your knees, and there are no five stages for that depth of loss. If I asked you to tell me of worth, you may think only of its absence. Caught between feeling too much and not enough, waiting to become free from the story you’re trapped in. If I asked you to tell me of beauty, you would most likely think of a person or place. But I have fallen in love with the sound of your laugh and the raw look of vulnerability I sometimes glimpse on your face.

Untamed

Feelings are like horses

It is best to allow them to run themselves wild

Instead of trying to tame their power

There will come a time when we all must choose

Between expressing ourselves

And suppressing ourselves

Let Go

Sometimes you don’t realize

What you are holding on to

Until you let it go

You Are Strong

You are strong enough to forgive where others will simply resent

You are strong enough to set boundaries where others will be walked on

You are strong enough to be compassionate when others will simply judge

You are strong enough to embrace who you are where others will cover it up

You are strong enough to be soft where others will let life harden them

You are strong enough to love

You are strong

You are strong

You are strong

Wild Woman

What is the power of a wild woman?

Is it in the curve of her hips,

Or the knowing smile on her lips?

Is it in the strength of her thighs,

Or the sparkle in her eyes?

Is it in the history her back wears,

Or her untamed hair?

Is it in her sensitivity,

Or the way her unpredictable emotions

Teach us to speak the language of creativity?

Is it in how deep her love runs,

Or the way she and the moon’s cycles are one?

Every month she experiences death

Shedding all the shadow her body has kept

The power of a wild woman

Runs through the woman