Subtle shifts re-shape the internal baskets carrying so much weight within.
Their handles worn from gripping their delicately woven threads so tight.
Their insides wet with wisdom, warm with the nectar one is only rewarded after that harrowing journey
Through hallowed hallways and well worn reed walls after months of pacing, gripping, filling, emptying…
Lavender and longing, cookies and song, death and hearty stews…
So thick one would re-weave one’s own self into a larger more delicate vessel simply to create more space.
And so we begin…
*This poem is available in my book Soft With Me, printed and bound in Western North Carolina thanks to a grant from the N.C. Arts Council.
