Summer Hall

I love to write. It reconnects me to who I am beyond what everyone wants me to be. This, the free-spirited, the wild beauty of earth and the wise women who wrote before me sustain and heal me.

Diary 2022

The wind loosens all chains of resistance
to what’s good for me.
It moves around me and moves me.
It lifts the rust and debris from the war;
a thousand projections, a million demands, a billion resentments
fall away and I soar with it, free,
remembering, calling myself back to my core,
back to my heart, back to my original self,
how I came into this world of a thousand things.

It moves clouds across the sky
unveiling a script I once could read
something the birds Know, that I thought I’d forgotten
but my blood remembers, my bone remembers
my spirit remembers.

I am called and I respond from the depths of myself
to the tips of this shallow breathing
I take a gulp and drink... Here I am, one of many,
fluid and bright, restored to myself.