Before I opened my eyes,
wrapped up in your arms
and in your heart
the strength of both holding me...
In that moment, that breath
I knew it was OK.
Not "will be OK",
but IS.

As the world crept in,
as I returned, so did the voices -
of fear, of doubt, of pain...
And yet, I keep that moment
clearly in my mind.
Fleeting though it was,
it was...
and is possible
to know it is OK.
Not "will be OK",
but IS. 

Break open
Release that grasp, that grip
that grounds you in this fear.
Let it go, let it break, let it breathe
then breathe...
Take it in, take it all in...
For the whole of the universe is one,
and your broken heart can hold it.

Sometimes being a friend feels like being a stormchaser's bodyguard

skies are dark, air is thick and heavy, no one sleeps... 
warning signs.... we should leave.
but they choose to walk the beaches, rope the wind,
swim in the churning sea,
a lightning rod in their embrace,
They're lost, caught up in the hurricane,
you reach for them, they can't see... 
hearts tossed like traffic lights,
shattered like sheet glass,
they're drowning in the surge,
unwilling to move to higher ground.
And your job is to listen.

Caribbean Sand


You're at the drawing table, drowning in sound
thick as honey, but not as sweet
dark words and rhythms leak through windows
saturate walls, stick to my shoes...
and in my head.
I swim beyond the music, to the couch on the shore
and I watch...
Strong hands, hot to the touch
skilled at lines and designs, shading and shaping,
until the secrets are revealed.
Intent on their work, charchoal dust settles into
wrinkles and folds, fingerprints on paper, on hearts
Hot to the touch.
Like Caribbean Sand
Thirsting for the sea...
So what is it that moves you, really?
You whisper...
The tide changes.