Outside, the summer wind breathes through the lush and bursting forest, and inside, a cold breeze chills even safely-buried roots. Overgrown stinging nettle stings my legs with each step, stabs my tongue with each word. I am left speechless in my own skin.

What happened to the good stories? Life weaving braids of gratitude and adventure and optimism, fresh breath of air stories. Mountain summit other-side of addiction adolescence pain rivers roaring stories. Long lovely days Milky Way laughter warmth of fire passion ablaze. Legends now.

A sea swells within me. Falling, crashing, and ebbing. Roots entirely washed away by a swollen ocean. Bones both cleansed and battered as I let go. 

Mother-love growing roots expanding waves. Delicate baby girl waves. Teeny baby boy waves. Momma Mary watching Jesus Christ nails in the flesh over broken bones son of God almighty forsaken and limitless waves. Darkness covers my eyes falling deeper Frida Kahlo broken daughter bleeding artist lo que el agua me dio waves. Waves of woman sisters in the depths, crashing, crashing, cresting. Floating. Quiet floods that will never be painted in beautiful colors on the body for others to see. Writing, dear old friend, I give you my heart, howling with grief and dripping with blood. I shatter onto this page.

These days brighten and wane like whole seasons. Red raspberry wisdom, huckleberry finger stains, sunshine sweat and naps in the shade, cold river runoff dances around my toes, warmth of loved ones and chocolate chip cookie days—outside really is your best side kind of days. But every single one of these passing seasons earth rotations are part of the story. Can’t just tear out some pages or whole chapters and leave the lovely ones to enjoy with a grande cup of lukewarm coffee with extra room for “I’m fine.”

Honestly, alive feels so good, but it hurts too badly sometimes. For now I’m just growing through the cracks of being. Trying to embody the forgiven joys as fully as the guilt-aches. The rising tides crushed, and left shattered what’s true. I just need some time to pick up all the pieces. And then maybe someday, all these pages will dance in the wind like summer again.

–E

mountains roar, rising and falling
snow melts and water flows through another revolution
the earth does not confine these rivers to the shape that soil desires
but with a great velocity, the waters shape their path

humans too must surrender to an uncommon course
carving away, releasing burdens too heavy
carrying life towards the sea
where pasts and futures collide

nature opens up its hungry jaws
as you do to the world in judgment
it spits you out, raw
leaving the flesh and blood behind and burying your bones

until you see the earth as a mirror
everything as a reflection of yourself
it is a terrifying and death-ridden place
with nowhere to hide but behind fear

that light that you’ve been protecting with all you have
it longs to dance with the wind
and will come back to you
more complete than before if you just allow it to soar

release your light and hold on to love
then let it go
and embrace it again
and then free it further

you are already whole
just let go of your precious heart, it is safe here
the fortress you’ve built around it only keeps it from healing
and becoming a full vessel, overflowing

darling, you contain all the love that exists
if you allow it to exist in you
nature longs to engrave not more pain on your heart,
but to embed purpose into this fractured world of men

let pass this melting into your path, don’t fight it
with great force, move, and take on your own shape
let the dark soil be your canvas
for new life

–E