why we build the wall

this entire album is extremely powerful. the first of it's kind folk-opera called "hadestown". check it out!

dear humanity

dear humanity,

can we overcome
paralysis in the face of cruelty?
consumption in the face of degradation?
extreme loneliness in the face of facebook?

it is us and only us.
we are the ones who must begin
reconnecting with the mother of us all,
gazing further than we ever imagined space for,
breathing in the great infinity of the wild,
the impending expiration of our lives.

touch the sacred
and see if your soul
wants to turn back.
wants to try to digitize a mountain,
upload a desert,
tag god
for all your friends to see.

humanity, can we remember
how it felt to come crying from our mothers bodies?
twig-sized fingers
reaching up toward a blanketing sky?
caring hands bathing bodies
like rocks in a stream--
deep and calm
motion by motion.

is rebirth in the vocabulary
of a people
whose mother
eludes us?

is renaissance
an image
we can google
and have painted for us?

through the funny feeling
that something just ain't right
where is the box
for our limited-word
response?
for our last shot at
brilliance?
for our data to add to the pool
where everyone's floating
but there's no room to swim?

i'm tryina see it
for what it is--
that 7 minute dance
from the metro to my house

when every person passing by
feels like another bullet
in my little white-girl chest
another missed connection
another lack of affection
another desperate longing
another dis-belonging
to my very own home
to my very own hope

when every person passing by
is another untouchable story
in the glorious, gory reality of life
another nine to five
another struggle to survive
another family fight
another holdin on tight
to their very own home
to their very own hope

i'm tryina see it
for what it is
when i give out warm
and get cold in return

shattered shards
of fairytale mirrors
and abandoned hearts
without the trust--
the energy restart

i'm tryina see it
for what it is--
that 7 minute dance
from the metro to my house

broken truth
unafraid
to reflect
broken truth

the way things change

i've never been good at adjusting to big changes. but i've always been good at creating them. at giving the finger to my current situation that's driving me insane, and opening my arms to possibility. somehow my heart knows that terror is an illusion, and necessity for change is an all-trumping truth. because whenever i begin to feel like Everything Must Change, it's almost always born out of a willingness to own my authenticity. to claim my needs. to be honest about what I've been not-so-honest about.

but damn, does this terror feel real!

it's terrifying, but beautiful. and even on days when i can't wrap my head around the beauty, it's unavoidable. so i'm trying my best to say yes to this quick flip of a switch when my life changes from dark to light. even when i feel like the rope in a tug-of-war between stability and possibility. even when i'm doubtful that my eyes can adjust after spending so long in the dark. i'm throwing in all my chips, hoping that my heart truly holds all the knowing it needs, that possibility really has the courage to win.

what about you? i truly want to know: where does your heart go when it knows it's time for change? how does your soul piece transition together?

a view from the shadows

if you find yourself doubting
your ability to nurture
the very heart that needs it most--
your own--
know that you are not alone
and that we all sit in the shadows
of our perceived inadequacy at times.
even as the spring awakens,
even as the sun lingers longer,
even as the birds sing out.

please remember that your view from the shadows
is merely a view from the shadows,
not an accurate reflection
of the beauty of the moment,
the day,
the month,
the year,
your life.

and maybe as you're sitting,
back perched up against the oak bark trunk
that casts its covering around you,
you can lean into that absence of light
and quietly whisper, "i feel you--
i see you,
i breathe you in,
and trust that you matter in my life--
as a reminder of how deeply
my heart longs for light,
as a reminder of how fully
my heart knows how to hold it."