The photo is a black and white photo of two “Morning Glory” just sprouted.
When you find what cast
your soul’s shadow
you will learn the truth
of who you really are.
You can’t drown pain
in the salt
from your own
You can’t destroy anything
by beating it
with your heart.
As an Empath I can merge
with any life form,
becoming life itself manifested
in flight, gills, earthlings and heart.
I lose my grip on my individuality and
float on your humming strings,
expand on your wings and dive
into your dark.
I even get lost in conflicting
tones unable to decipher your cadence
from my own.
That is why I need my art.
Art becomes: another you, another life,
my own heart, gills, wings.
I merge with the life form we call
the soul. My soul.
I drown in this depth only to re-emerge
on another surface having become myself
fully, wholly, holy, fulfillingly
April has been a month enchanted by sunrise pages of art in peachy sketchbooks, boxes of crayons, tall glasses of iced peppermint lattes and see-through tubs of homemade ice cream.
There has been pale yesterday moons, dreamy everyday adventures gone wild, a dawning Summerland and family photos of Henhouses and pretty new girlfriends.
There has been Blooming Camellias, glowy-eyed foxes lost in technicolor cityscapes, and sea green fashion to wear on tiny new ships going on virgin sails to Childhood Paradise.
All in all, Spring has blossomed into green leaves leaning towards the sun and I have morning picniced on chili cheese sandwiches and blossomed into a color-mad artist-bud lost in the enchantment of a well-stocked paintbox.
See you later, Alligators!
March has been an impatient and sunny month waiting for good things to grow without water. It has been a month of poetry sprouting from dreams far from maddening crowds and words creating a universe for us to wait in.
It has been a month of growth, of new seeds rising through the surface and lines being drawn on blank canvases. There has been love; love for green things bending their leaves to meet the warm sun, and cheerful prayers whispering: “Grow! Grow! Grow!”.
There has been sleepy cats craving independence and time of togetherness. There has been cottage gardens and yellow flowers, port wine and polka dot pots of basil, bookshops and moonrise kingdoms.
All in all it has been a month where dreams and aspirations have risen to the surface and outgrown and outshone reality. But maybe that is what we need in a world that, for many, no longer feels like home.
every part of