I am still faithfully following petals as paths with my soul’s whispered directions to where you are at, the one to reciprocate all this love I have, and along the way, I’ve grown to love the way I am.
Across the street from the ocean, I reside, at my everyday disposal are the almighty tides, the aquahorizon with no opposite end that blends with the sky, no greater reminder of the bigger picture beyond this life, and it does indeed soul-energize, but I’ve always known the humility of how insignificant we are: I seek instead the intimate inner warmth I find crouched among the non-garden flowers inspecting the finest details neglected and trodden, and through my lens and art, I depict how they feed my heart, shared roots and seeds organically free yet universally tied, turning our faces peacefully to the shared light, the Higher Power who sculpted us both, all, with intention and without society-judged flaws, precision in individuality, every living piece lovingly kneaded, and when the rays find and kiss petals, this is the beauty that stills me breathless, to see in crafted detail the miracles of His Creation and how love was meant to prevail in every season.
With the enchanted key of my irises, I slowly turn the handle leading to the secret garden that I will landscape with my lenses. I gather and paint in my mind a glorious Eden made from what February offers: bright daylilies and sun to burst my heart open at its seams. I will visit this created place of dreams eternally!
I better see if mom is done in the medical building… I try not to frolic too far when I am needed…
Saving grace, whole heart back in your arms, you hold all of me as me; I never knew how non-words could feel the best route. Unspoken is our reset, mutual forgiveness, moving on but not leaving anything unaddressed. We understand, silent resolutions, in the simple language of love.
Do you mind if I stay extra near awhile, to just exist in this balance, a respite from the drama of being so much?
Sometimes (more often than not), I exhaust myself with this wild heart and wild soul I house.
It’s been sunny and seventies, and the seasons have not so much been confused as they have been seemingly just leisurely mingling, amused, some stalling, some joyfully letting go; nothing in the South rushes though.
Like melting cubes of ice in tea, we take it sweet and slow down here. It tickles me pink to have the mix sprinkling personal messages so clear.
Today started differently, gray with a bit of nip in the air. Certain trees partaking in autumn are almost now bare, covering the patio in a bland blanket over stone, which made the flowers I did not grow even more the focal point of my windowed soul.
I smiled for how they have become so deeply rooted in my journey. Marking my heart’s pages, so many petals and leaves held so dearly, imprinting with their colors and scents my most powerful untold stories.