Sometimes we keep secrets for people that we should never be asked to keep…
The unscratched newness of possible…caressing night lights, haven’t left the house, they sat there at the bottom of that dress…waiting…for the demanding dress.
The singers crying over words they know too well, that make sense of life and the “if only I’d remembered to listen a little longer…”
Let us reveal, with our eyes, our true selves…and feel what it is to truly acknowledge one another.
“Oh Woman!” is a poem that represents the anxiety of existence of every-woman. The passive victim of male gazes, she is always in the process of introspection, longing for a space of her own.
Unless it’s mad, passionate and extraordinary,
With mutual weirdness, it’s a waste of your time.
In the middle of the storm, water floods the streets, the creek beds, the basements of buildings, everywhere resisting containment.
Suddenly you see so clearly how the world is filled, every single square inch of it, with tiny blossoms.
So we don’t help, we forget, we let things be. We ignore the children.
I thought of Trump sitting right next to me, having absolutely no clue how extraordinary it was to witness a hummingbird diving into a flower like that.