in another incarnation of your self you would have been a revival preacher.
tents and bible thumping and supernatural healing the whole pageantry of it all.
instead you are the shakespearean fool, who feels he's only yelling into the wind
you see truth through the slats of death and creativity
the pagan priest of heartache and sorrow who longs for joy and happiness,
even as you spit on it's vivid specters.
you play with words and ideas and images like i play with paint and paper.
carving them up to create something new, to express the in expressible.
these are gifts of wonder and delight, a healing balm of gilead
the giving and receiving well are core human pleasure and you are part of that magical economy.
she blows like the head winds wild and free
an anchored boat in the choppy sea.
the storms she has weathered with grace and beauty seem almost impossible for me to conceive.
even with a irish red temper she finds light and purpose and joy in the shadow.
laughter comes easily and the tenacity of pressing forward.
nothing seems impossible with her by your side.
she is the sea nymph and queen rolled into one sparking and vibrant watery lady
fragile angel with a strong spirit who delights in life
sweet and beautiful she still sees only the awkward child of her odd youth
with cigarette and music she shelters and buffers her self against the assaults of daily life
drum sets and guitars and microphones call to her rousing from a deep sleep
yet she doesn't know how talented and able she is to play in the world around her.
all the beautiful friends are giants to her jack...she lost the truth of that story a life time ago
slow she is waking to see that ingenuity and guts are the markers of success in these watery ventures.
the two mothers, one partnered one single
each seeking to mend broken knees and broken hearts
and all that comes with bringing life to another being
we speak in moments and slivers of time between work and bed
they must steal what is no given a moment to rest and be and clear the head
i stand ever in awe of them the unsung work and journey
of my two beautiful and strong friends
innocent as a dove and fierce as a snake she is a fairy creature
faith and love and beauty are markers of her touch
they are through the divine what she is defined by most
creativity pours out her pores like water, it is the air she can't help but breath
the jadedness has yet to fade her luster and light
she bounces like a monkey and loves with a whole hearted abandon