Butterfly
The belly crawl urges you forward,
from the potential of what was cold and dead.
Up,
toward a new layer of atmosphere.
Up,
toward a new sense of purpose.
Let yourself dangle from what you know,
into what you don't know.
Let yourself go inside your own skin,
to find the new colors,
that haven't been seen or named
and the wings,
that will set you free,
into an endless horizon,
of new challenges.
The belly crawl urges you forward,
from the potential of what was cold and dead.
Up,
toward a new layer of atmosphere.
Up,
toward a new sense of purpose.
Let yourself dangle from what you know,
into what you don't know.
Let yourself go inside your own skin,
to find the new colors,
that haven't been seen or named
and the wings,
that will set you free,
into an endless horizon,
of new challenges.
Tourscher Homestead I-in progress
Tourscher Homestead II, in progress
There are layers here,
that you can't see.
They are buried here,
with some water,
that won't ever touch my tongue.
Much like the language,
that was spoken in rooms,
that I was too afraid to enter.
I was a small, scared child,
who was never taught,
how not to be scared.
I would watch the well,
that was just out the window,
and wish for it to be magic.
I am grown now,
so I can distinguish the layers;
because they rose up within me too.
The love that flows,
from a honeyed heart.
The anger that bursts from me,
as though it were laughter.
Even the fear,
that I have long since,
learned to ride the wave of,
was a layer too;
it was the first one.
I can now hold,
what was built and is building still,
quickly, in the synaptic cleft,
slowly, over the births and the deaths.
The layers are in me and I am also one layer.
But mine has some magic,
that I got from that well.
There are layers here,
that you can't see.
They are buried here,
with some water,
that won't ever touch my tongue.
Much like the language,
that was spoken in rooms,
that I was too afraid to enter.
I was a small, scared child,
who was never taught,
how not to be scared.
I would watch the well,
that was just out the window,
and wish for it to be magic.
I am grown now,
so I can distinguish the layers;
because they rose up within me too.
The love that flows,
from a honeyed heart.
The anger that bursts from me,
as though it were laughter.
Even the fear,
that I have long since,
learned to ride the wave of,
was a layer too;
it was the first one.
I can now hold,
what was built and is building still,
quickly, in the synaptic cleft,
slowly, over the births and the deaths.
The layers are in me and I am also one layer.
But mine has some magic,
that I got from that well.
Tourscher Homestead IV-in progress
I look out on the land,
but this time through my daughter's eyes.
Her fears have always been expressed
and then explained.
She can breathe in all of the beauty,
and the possibility,
because she isn't holding her breath.
She has been held more than me,
because she was never afraid,
to ask to be held.
She is familiar with containment.
She is solid within herself.
She will step out onto each stone,
towards who she is,
and towards what she wants.
I look out on the land,
but this time through my daughter's eyes.
Her fears have always been expressed
and then explained.
She can breathe in all of the beauty,
and the possibility,
because she isn't holding her breath.
She has been held more than me,
because she was never afraid,
to ask to be held.
She is familiar with containment.
She is solid within herself.
She will step out onto each stone,
towards who she is,
and towards what she wants.
Tourscher Homestead III-in progress
Untitled-in progress
Piece of Peace-in progress
Sweet Potato Sunset-in progess
Shenandoah II-in progress
Launch me, launch me far;
further than I've ever been.
Show me the meaning,
of eternal spaces.
I will ride this out.
I do not know where I need to go.
I only know that I am going.
Launch me, launch me far;
further than I've ever been.
Show me the meaning,
of eternal spaces.
I will ride this out.
I do not know where I need to go.
I only know that I am going.