Darcy R's Wisdom Page

Where we sit within ourselves 

is where we find our peace

our breath

and vulnerability to love another.

Make a new path, sweet man.

You will never let go if you always think it's 2007.

Breath in and feel the air

Breath out and know you survived.

You are safe.

And before you,

stands a woman, in 2013,

that loves you and is willing to hold your hand, 

if you will hold hers,

so that we might grow

into ourselves

our power

our freedom,

day, by day.

Finding our peace with the past

with ourselves.

Have the courage to take a risk.

She is kind, 

she is safe,

she calls you her best friend.

She loves you for who you are.

Take the risk, what do you have to lose?

2/13

Feet on the ground,the world hangs--long hair holds tears.A new placeborn of old patterns,unable to stop the birth.Black slivers of glass,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the smell of dawn,the familiardissipated.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Her eyes raisealive, hungry,a power awoken.The smile creeps across her face-she is not afraid,to be here,alone.Be.Grow.The woman.Feet on the ground,A new placeblood of the child- the placenta,underfoot,damp chill pulling  -shadows that cling,the familiar dissipated.The woman's heartblood coursingthe woman's lungsOxygen rich.The woman's eyesalive, hungry, and yet she just standsunable to move.Long hair holds her.Save me she mouths,save me from myself...And yet no one can.No one will.She is alone,in a world,born of the patterns she was raised to call home.Tears become rivers,as determination builds.She must move.A hollow scream,oxygen void.Do not corner a predator.Fluid like water,a survivor.  Yet her body will not move.The brain stem: She will survive.Finds her heart,herself within the consistent beat.  She closes her eyes to the sharp the chill, she finds that one hand is holding her, the other hangs, relaxed.This is who she is.Breathbecause she can.because she wants to.This is who she is.She is the most beautiful thingshe has ever seen.A lace curtain blowing in the windthe mystery of sensualityA bench upon an empty hill sidethe random acts of kindness a flower broken through the sidewalkthe power of perseverance. She is the most amazing creature she’s ever touched.A slow stream of tempid water,The touch of a lovers lips,The freedom of falling backwards.Her hands move slowly over her damp flesh, as if for the first time.the greater wing of the sphenoid,  the subclavius,the sternum’s body,She holds her breath and looks up-afraid to share herself with an onlooker.Afraid they will take her away.Her exhale. Her eyes alive,She smiles,I am my own.tattooed upon her pericardium,connecting her throat to her heart to her brain.She is one.She is self.