Sisters of mine,
My support beams
You feed and nourish me,
Bring me to wholeness;
To live in my fullness.
In your hands
I blossom in self-love;
Throw myself into the winds
Of this journey’s song
Near and far,
I feel your presence.
The unspoken connection,
An essential, indispensable life force.
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She sits, dipping into the quiet spaces that dwell between the thoughts – collage of sounds and pictures that clutter the cerebral walls.
The quiet spaces – cool refreshing pools formed by the rainwater that falls, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a torrent, on the earth.
Where the water falls, seeds planted lifetimes ago find nourishment and begin to sprout and grow. Eventually to flower – petals spreading like flakes of coloured light that catch the Sun.
Petals, like invisible velvet to the fingertips – disappearing between the skin – soft, yet almost imperceptible. Their colours gold and fuchsia, deep poppy red and cornflower blue.
Early morning sunlight enters the window panes. She opens the windows and smells the air – grassy, sweet, fragrant with flowers, alive with birdsong.
The sunlight warms her eyelids, burning away the sleep of night.
As one can only do when one is alone and quiet.
Waited for a story to come,
for the last shrill tear of the seagull’s call.
Waited for the final shred of warmth
from the autumn sun’s rays.
In the silent, stirring, yearning depths of herself
an unheard song like a hushed whisper
called for some magic to weave itself into a spell
that danced on the page.
She felt nourished by tales of wizards
chased by shadows
and turning to hunt the darkness
with a staff bleached in light.
And she longed to tell a tale
not unlike those she poured over;
thinking that maybe in that
lay the quenching
of her soul’s thirst.