Dear woman, love your belly. Wrap yourself in handwoven dresses; let starwhispers linger in your ears. Don’t dismiss your wisdom just because it’s incomplete. You learned how to tend your fireglow soul; you know flames don’t always equal heat; you know coals need companions. Offer your sinking eyes benedictions, sing psalms to their crinkles. Let your throat court gravity in a slow burn romance. Consider: no one can define your capacity for beauty. Will you choose your own loveliness? Blow kisses to your reflection every day? Who will teach your children to write love letters to themselves, if not you?
Related Posts
Too much becomes too much and where does it settle?
Where could we drive with sleep permeating the back seat? Driving was the point and not the point. Here is…
Talk to me about the letter H
Here is unshaped breath. Can I rename this sleeping air? This sound is an ocean, older than voice. It still…
List of my lost body parts, some found
Tongue. Found balled up in an inside-out pant leg while pulling laundry out of the dryer. Slightly felted. No longer…
