for Lucille Junkere
This blue is also deep red. Rich with blood, the cries of babies and entire peoples torn from their home places, bloom of anger, drop of heartbreak, music of spirits staying strong through too many dark nights. This red-blue is the steady stroke and beat of uprising, of holding steady and passing love through blood and bone.
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As I slept, we lost an hour
and I woke this morning knowing that loss is the soft underbelly of love, that we can roll it over to pry out the sweetest parts but can never pick it clean from the hollow bones of grief. I seek solace in the land, gather mountains in my arms while geese float through the thin morning. The sun fails to properly rise. Birds still called as if the world weren't breaking at the seams. A river running coyote, gray-white in the iced air, passes close but doesn’t look my way, just steps like majesty through the silent Sunday. I do not truly belong to this desert place but the river always welcomes me like a cherished guest. |
Who am I?I’m a systems engineer and creative coach living in ABQ, NM. I believe that we can intentionally design our lives to align with our deepest dreams and desires. Archives
January 2023
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