You’re warm like summer and silky as cream
Slipping past my fingertips
As I raise you above your planet
And spill you back to whence you came
You are the sand that caresses my palms
And I feel every grain
I value every creature, every child that is mine
From the empty-eyed doe to the bow legged goat
Lovingly, I whisper life into their lungs and light into their minds
Bite me all you like, I shall never harm you
But bring destruction upon yourselves, that is when I cannot save you
You are hot like the summer and white as sour milk
The pearly bones of your existence slip past my fingertips
As you are risen above your planet
And crushed inside my palm
And spilled back to whence you came
This is a re-post from my Instagram. I felt that all poetry should eventually find its way back home to here, no matter where they are first birthed.
She was fierce as feral flames, fangs without the jaw, a burning star, a speeding car, sounds of fire crackles and familiar music. Each strand of hair upon her head held a story doused in color, her eyes hypnotic and starving for every experience this world can offer her.
Each turn of the Sun was a metamorphosis and every peek of the Moon a chance to howl and scream into the night, a grin spread wide.
Summer and sand favored her heels, leaving dusty hot imprints on the balls of her feet. Across the heat, as fast as air can bring her, she rushes towards unfamiliar depths, nearly fearless of the blue, nearly fearless to die.
Scars on her elbows and knees and palms would sink in salted water and leave peeled off bandages as a path to follow later on.
The child of Sweeping fire and Summer Echoes, may your days in the sun be ever hot and bright. And as you walk past the shimmering shores and muggy mid-day fog, may the fish guide you from the sea as well as up above.