so glad they do

the new life you long for comes at the price of the thing you’re too afraid to let go of

my body, my garden

if I’m going to bloom at all in this little life

why did no one ever tell me there was such wholeness in not knowing?

when I sit by the stream I don’t wonder what i’ve done to deserve it’s trickle

what bitter truth for baby birds that no one can learn to fly for them

in the same way