Restorative Rituals for
Meaningful Self Care
Creeping through the hallways of my dreams
What is true?
What is the mind,
spinning half awake half asleep half truths?
Even in the walking,
the peering into dark doorways
of possibilities and never chosen paths,
the feeling inside is real and alive.
How the body remembers
this deep desire to discover
a room that fits,
to belong to a person who knows,
to create magical, shimmery webs
that hold us in each others arms.
And yet, in these shadowed mind-roads,
I can’t quite find the hand to grasp
beyond this invisible air.
My heart knows its own truth
that I can only belong to myself first.
Only I can know the inner landscape
of these moonlit arteries and veins
and the memories of long lost cells,
before I can see the inside of you, or
seek to be seen by you.
This moment in my dreams
is haunted by the aching melody of
songs I sing to myself,
the body’s restless breath,
as I look outwards and inwards
trying to clear these foggy windows.
As I enter into my 41st year, I felt a sudden desire to return here to my blog and write. It has been awhile. I have shared poems and other words on social media, and a few here as well. But, it has been some time since I have sat down to reflect, write out
For you whose light has been dimmed in an already dark world— For you whose voice has been muted in a loud screaming world— For you who feels lost in a world full of mirrors— Breathe. When every warm body is out of reach, you have the power to hold your own heart with a
Holding hands in the dark, the wash of moonlight spilling onto the sheets. A kiss on my cheek and a hug that lingers long enough to feel the solid warmth of skin and bone. The breath of a sunset sky, and the heat of thunder and lightning pouring cleansing waters from above. A singular burgundy