Tag Archives: freedom

When your pulse tugs, listen.


If you could hold it in your hand

Like dust tied down in space
And time, paused for the occasion

Would you?
The heart of your whole life,
The culmination of what truly mattered in the end
In the right now

If you could, would you?
Stop striving, leaning into the noise, pressing into the rush in that non-thinking way
And hold dearly whatever it is you hold dear?

Can you pinpoint it if you try?
And in the finding, could you revel in it deeply enough to feel alive?

We don’t, that’s my conclusion
Open-ended yet certain

I see a consortium of forests
With no trees
A pavilion of hearts
With no beat
An ocean of eyes
That can’t see
And nobody anywhere is dancing


I want to hold you in my hand



The Wild Path


The mind runs like a mustang
Unbroken by the boundaries,
The bindings,
The bridle that cuts at the chaff

The chagrin woe
The steel plow
The oil drills, spilling in volcanous spewing

And like a different kind,
The same breed
But race horse
Fills the pocket stash

Greed, gleans the collected man into composure
The pasture from his birth to freedom day
Nothing there beyond will his eye know of

Sure, the grain chews greasy in texture
Prick precising
Divides the whole
In two unleveled halves

We are assigned
From birth
The have nots; the haves
The common stream
From which both drink
And share
The backwards flow
Ego; wrath

No beard on a mountain sings of hunger
No coin in the bank sings full

The stallion knows not of blue collars and class
His wisdom, either
Will not keep;
It’s perished just as soon
The moment’s passed

All the wild horses…

I Am Taught


shell of a woman
shell of a child
neither and elsewhere also
i am not
caved in and hollowed
by the never of my own becoming
never knew its place in me
all along, all in all
i came to a lot of places
and i came to be a lot of people
be without becoming
without once settling down
my heart
beatbeat ravenous
to explore the wilderness
the world
the wild of it all
native dirt between my toes
long enough
only to feel lost in the grit of it
the harsh sands of it
and time had nothing on me
no watches, no tears, no goodbyes or plans
just going
knowing nothing
but that desire to go
and learn every possible thing there could be
to learn
tumbleweed soul
taking the stars at night as my own
personal orphans
each of them, breastfeeding the constellations
i was a widow then
of all i’d yet to know
barefoot wanderer
who always kept the fire
through the desert midnights

thirty three degrees

i never came of age
i never cried at the most important losses
i never set out to conquer grief
or anything really
becoming one with things always felt more natural
as in organ-like, pulsing, a living thing
if it flowed i followed
sometimes taking lead
myself my head to a sleepless bed
in an infinite twilight romance
this world
my hunger for it

the quietest of natures
calms the silence of our souls

such gluttonous, reckless freedom

i came crashing into this life
addicted to my own explosion
transfixed by the impact
of curiosity on consequence
childhood; sunsets
not a care in the world
in the wild, my hands were fearless
squishing slime-covered bodies
up and down
in and out
covering my hooks

i always sang
the beguiled worm to its grave

becoming bait
i give you thanks
for all the fish
i will have ate

Try This On For Size


When the people fear the government, there is tyranny. When the government fears the people, there is liberty.

Thomas Jefferson

thoughts like propellers
propel themselves forward
and pull me behind them
I’m thinking-enslaved

over-analyzations like an addiction, work further and deeper the old familiar creases and circular patterns
ruts in the mud
terrain unordained

look at me now
how far I’ve come without traveling straight
flying down the winding roads
never holding the wheel
seldom checking the brakes
I told you so
rearview mirrors have no place
in me
belonging always to the now
to the slowing down of a lifetime’s haste
to the constant change, the elusive thing that most can’t take

and here I am
with my blackberry brain
ripening on the windowsill
pickling like eggs
nestled in the folds; the wrinkling surface; the gray-matter space where intellect can be measured, tucked in and tethered to some tangible notion that cannot be faced

you’ll find me there — if you catch yourself so inclined to look —
singing joy in the mornings with the multitude; the birds, perched, chorusing the carol of my freedom song

fits me like a glove
or an ungiven name
christen myself, the occasion suits me

oh wild little girl in me
“she can’t help it honey, she came to make waves”
grown fully now — isn’t it funny how
that happens, when no one’s looking —
no longer awkward, ugly, whatever-it’s-called-duckling

in tow and submission
how could I resist them?
the endlessly coming-on of masochism; bondage; thoughts of my own; inescapable age

brittle hands of time
might tie me down
but cannot tame

the stars, too
I see them without counting
I never did keep score
for that, they’ve taken an oath
they have sworn
to testify to my defiance
shining brilliance in light
against this visible roar
screaming forth

who dared long ago to dream bigger
be careful
in thinking outside the box
your efforts of thought
only bind you to an out-of-sight out-of-mind location
in which our society keeps you

and so blacksmith I became
forming the metal with the heat of a fire, flames of fury and the hammer strikes it in place, the bars becoming pillars of a perfectionist’s prison

deafening wilderness
a madness my own
a place I feel safe

I’ve been known to break it down, those accepted modes of unthought, take that sick little box and master it, make it my bitch, put it in place, simplify it and step away (if only for a moment) cleansed

we gotta learn how to beat our own drum
broken or not
dance if we want, without music playing
make a new song, unmetered rhythms without pressure to harmonize, blend in, keep the stanzas and standards and balance maintained

write a new verse
ignore the refrain
if we so choose

because appearances are deceiving
here, in this space
the nonconformity of it feels more like liberty than any pseudo-freedoms to which civilians claim

I am free

once upon a time, though
I tried it on for size
I voted
in many ways also, I contributed to the beast
feeding his greed with my ignorance

and on my knees I discovered
I’d much rather serve a righteous King
sacrifice everything I thought mattered
and live awake in my hour, even caged by the truth
than go to sleep with a false sense of freedom, a constitutional blindness
pledging my allegiance
vowing my soul’s loyalty
to an inanimate object
that stands for anything but the individual person’s rights, pursuits, or relevance

you see, I grew up
and even if you don’t agree with me
be proud
in this day and age it’s still possible
for a girl to think for herself

and refuse to settle
for mindless pacifications
of blind leading blind

Yes minus no plus always equals truth. Squared.

Yes minus no plus always equals truth. Squared.

If you could go back to yesterday, and do one thing over, what would it be? And would you do it?

I’ve always professed to live without regrets. While that’s certainly humanly impossible, it always sounded like such a powerful way of existing: embracing every mistake you ever made, no matter how iconically it changed your life or how gut-wrenching it is merely to allow the memory to flood your thinking momentarily; I know, quite the fanciful notion.

In this season of my life, I’m experiencing everything on a much more bare-skinned, no-holds-barred, in-your-face, like-it-or-not, taste it touch it see it smell it hear it embrace it, tangible level.

And to be perfectly honest… I really like it this way. Admittedly, the adjustment was a bit shocking and a lot overwhelming and everything you would expect from going from head-in-the-clouds daydreaming to feet-on-the-ground truth-hiking; but once you acclimate you discover that it’s SO MUCH MORE REAL than anything before.

That doesn’t mean I’m sitting in a dark room weeping for all the nonsense and bad judgement I’ve spent most of my life perpetuating. It simply means that I’m not dwelling in the emptiness of false words about embracing my worst memories for the prescribed destiny they served to satisfy… Make no mistake. My mistakes were no gift from fate and my destiny never depended on my ability to live like an idiot who was Queen for a day, (every day, for years at a time in some cases). I’m not chasing down my bad judgement so I can look it square in the face and claim it, either. I’m just letting go of those former defense mechanisms I was once so fond of turning to when I didn’t particularly like how it felt to face the truth. I’ve been set free, you see. I don’t need to forgive myself for all my stupidities; but I no longer need to run from the reality of them either. I’m looking at the world through my own two eyes, standing on its surface with my own two feet, and quite possibly for the first time in my entire life, I like how it feels to be split wide open in the truth of it all.

Humility is a double edged sword. It’s important that before you go swinging it, you know what it feels like to be cut with it first. You can’t cut yourself in half and be done with it. It’s the delicate art of slicing through our exterior, one layer at a time; slowly, gently, peeling away the dead layers of our perception of self and letting what’s underneath BREATHE for the first time. It’s the only way to ever truly know who you are: learn to be honest with yourself, first.

“Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts.” –Albert Einstein