Windowlight

do you see her?

playfully peeking into view

an inquisitive character

who sees all the puzzling pieces life devises

but is blind

to her true self

root

that core essence she ignores

bottles away

hides behind pretty panes of distractions

and fearfully forgets how to communicate with

her core

tentatively

cracking the thinly constructed curtains

she peers in

and whispers

hello?

it’s the most wonderful time of the year
when the weather is changing
and nasty germs are reigning
there’s a reason to bundle away
for
it’s the most magical time of this season
when bodies begin aching
and throats start singing
their mucus love songs
oooooh
it reminds me just how much i love
to avoid
this sickly time of year

spilling
open from the seams
consumed
by this twisted
messy
scattering of mental elastics
she uses to weave all the second-guessing questions
that vine and root
into her everyday
and exhaustively searching for
that concept of contentment known as
enough
the knowledge that the here and now
not the impossibly perfectionist standards
imposed by those deceptive strings
is more than ok

when gravity comes calling
what keeps one from the inevitable
the misshaping force field
that pulls one towards earth
tumble
what provides an invisible pillowy parachute
that stalls the fall
and allows an absorbing moment
to hover
offering enough support
to reflect in recline
and float
in this temperate limbo
where one learns to gracefully
gently
surrender to the slow decline

found in contrasting light. through learning loving and sharing. her silly serious self. she flourishes. sharing the most harrowing moments over lemon ginger tea. loving so far that this heart and her hugs span multiple continents. and learning that no matter her age she can still ball up and fit in a hamper. playfully discovering. the ever changing character of she.

only the courageous dare. to rebelliously defy the expectations of others. dodge shift and twist reality to their own. reshape what is and what can be. while daring to dream of the impossible. whimsical. manifesters who creatively play with the notion what’s next. and spin in dawning light. for in sunny side beams. on unexpectedly good days. their visions are born.

a dotted matrix of endless avenues at her back. sharp shadows striating across the bow. her vessel rocks in sunlit waves. and she is peacefully poised in contrast. pensive. looking outward for answers to obligations and distractions that await her presence beyond the slatted shield. when the inward cries out. gently. offering a hopeful mantra. one’s needs can be found. within.

these light falls. cast reminders of long drawn lazy days. that feel never ending until the days bolt by in their hundred year dash. and one wonders where the missed opportunities went. how we got here. chaotic crusaders. constantly contorting under time constraints. where the tiniest tick will topple balance. tock to imbalance. and we sometimes struggle to juggle it all.

 

when the anxiety of maneuvering all the plot points builds. into a flurry of check marks on to-do lists. missed comms. what-ifs. each new idea splintering into infinite opportunities. cascading cacophony. swirling together until one final piece. linchpin. locks into place. transforms the anxiety. from stressful stomach knots. to excited butterflies. who relish this plan. and settle into a balanced state.

that moment when the arc of completion drops. a brief rush of relief. quickly followed by the messy emotional cocktail found at the end of a laborious rainbow. finish. with a lackluster pot of gold. dulled by the stress of reaching here. bittersweet. glinting flecks of accomplishment reflect efforts made. while the heavier nuggets nag with the endless question. what now.