usually, i feel the words before i see them. it mirrors a tripping, me running into words begging for life. and sometimes i'm good to spit them out unaltered and unafraid but most times i edit them down. i cut and scrape and chop - fearful of others' glances.

thankfully, my {commune}ity challenges me to do more than just edit. these bravehearts and warrioresses move me to  speak truth regardless. they remind me of the magic of time, that {secret}messages are everywhere, and that even an old book can breathe life into your art.

so today, i hope to be unedited. drawing inspiration from the five-minute prompt over at the gypsy mama's space, i'll breathe deep and take a dive into some scary territory.


usually it's my dreams that force me to stay awake.

eyes wide open, i spent most of the early morning hours flat on my back and face toward the ceiling. my heart pounded out complaints, her feet brushing against my ribcage with the fear dance she created.

it's just a dream, i repeated. just a dream. 

but...i couldn't help but notice the secret messages hidden throughout the images.

messages speaking of vulnerability, intimacy, fear of connection. and then the even deeper ones - embedded in wounds long ago cut deep.

i glanced at my husband, breathing evenly next to me, and pushed myself out of bed. stumbling to the bathroom i fumbled for a light and looked in the mirror.

i looked anything but awake. 

i splashed water on my face and took a second glance.

and i wondered then, because the pull to crawl back into bed was something fierce...

how many times do i quiet the dreams just so i can go through the day numb to life?


Posted on January 13, 2012 .