Rose shouts to boot: Please don’t stomp me into the flat shape of your sole!
Water says to bucket: Allow me to remain in my Sea-Mother’s arms!
Cicada pleas with rain: Don’t wash me from these soon-gone heights!
Death begs sunshine: Allow me to never remember your warmth!
Heart bargains with heart: If you imprison me, then lose the key!
We are afraid to lose our footing, even as we want to fly; we desire to forget ourselves, even as we turn toward our name; we have faith in what we see, but long to jump into the abyss.
We are intoxicated on dichotomies, strung out on choices, and utterly dependent, as we lay in the gutter, on the presence of Another to help us rise again .
Lose the key.