come into the light.

but morning finds you still warm and breathing/

with the best of intentions, i started this a few days ago. and promptly left it on the back burner.

"it's been some time.

it seems funny that i should choose now to begin upkeep of this blog. now, when i'm sure to be much more of a busy bee than before.

one week ago, minus two hours and a few measly minutes, i gave birth (in four hours, at home in a birthing pool) to the most magical, delightful little being. luck and love have graced me with not one, but TWO beautiful children (in addition to the insanely awesome love of my life husband i've managed to wrangle in the meantime) - even in the wee hours of the morning, bleary eyed and neverbeensoexhaustedinmylifeohmygod!, i find myself smiling. life is so sweet."

and full! when i haven't got my arms heart brain full i'm trying to get my mouth full, or empty and clean, along with the rest of me. my husband is a lifesaver - he entertains my incessantly inquisitive four-year-old, has mastered the art of protein shakes just the way i like them, makes patient attempts to connect with an infant who's seemingly only got eyes for her mother's breasts (tough competition), and still makes time to kiss me so that time stops earth moves heart aches because all is full of love.

so, i hope i can manage to consistently blog about my adventures, but if i'm not back as often as you'd like, please don't hesitate to contact me in real life - i live much better over there than on the internet. xo!

it's the holidays and everyone's coming home everyone's coming home coming home coming home

the harvest - i just feel like posting this today

i started as a seed in the hole in the ground in my head

you came after me we eloped without a sound we rushed it

now i'm all limbs all hands all eyes all feeling

you say i'm all heart like it's a bad thing

made my way as a sprout from the seed in the hole in the ground

you say when i came out i wasn't me i was bold i was proud

now i'm all fists all mouth all talk all aching

tell me i'm all heart like it's a bad thing

we all need to grow

i became a stalk from the sprout from the seed in the hole

i would lay and talk take it down let's see what i know

i know i'm all mind lacking logic full of panic no strings

they say i'm all heart like it's a bad thing

i became a flower from the stalk from the sprout from the seed

became afraid that our love would walk right out on me

i know you're all mine full of logic now i panic cause the strings

pull on my heart like they're attacking

we all need to grow

beauty comes from ordinary soil so why don't we see it?

when our hearts have gone.

just because

there once was love

don't mean a thing

don't mean a thing

for micah.

I saw a great movie tonight -- District 9. For those of you who haven't seen it, check it out. The first hour is mindless violence, but if you can get through that, you'll find your mind blasted open, in the best way possible. Go, do yourself a favor and gain some awareness.

I thought I'd write about the lessons learned from the movie -- but I'm still so awestruck that I can't properly formulate coherent sentences. Instead, I leave you with a poem I wrote about six months ago. Micah and I had a beautiful, fun-filled day today, leaving him desperately in need of a bath, which reminded me of this one particular bathtime...

Namaste.

----------------------

for micah.

with just a little coaxing, i stripped you of your armor - cast off my own, and knelt before you, trembling, naked/
it scared me to let you see me this vulnerable.

for i am your protector, your warrior mother who bakes you cookies in the lazy afternoon and thrashes in the sheets/cold sweats & dreams about you in the night.

i would do anything
for you

to love me.

like a submarine, i acquiesced to the water's plea "just let me hold you one more time" - along the same lines of how i always give you an extra squeeze before you leave, just in case.

your inquiring eyes burn holes in mine as you carefully wrap your little hands around cups of blue, green, purple. your chubby baby fingers meticulously orchestrate the foundations of architecture that will save the world - or my soul, at the very least.

stacking squares, you place your art in my hands, inviting me to join in on your exploration of creative potentiality. the steam rises from the bathwater, forming droplets of water on my face, hiding the otherwise undeniable fact that you've moved me to tears with your innocent faith.

later, on a walk in the crisp autumn air, i recall comparing prune fingers as i towel dried your hair. you sank into me like a dream, and i contemplated what it would be like to stop time and keep you at sweet, tender three. you still let me kiss you in public, and you'll never grow tired of sitting in my lap, playing with my hair and blowing raspberries into my neck.

i know you're growing older. i feel your baby body slip away into the bedsheets and emerge in the morning with the hardened musculature of a playful child. your eyes have changed the way they look upon the world. your mouth has altered its former fifteen word vocabulary to spit out imitated jargon, gathered and stored away when i'm not looking or listening.

and now, as i close the day and make my plans for later, i'll drag myself up the stairs where you sleep fitfully, waiting for me to join you in sifting through dreams, selecting fractals of reality from which we weave tangible patterns in the star-studded night, to realize upon waking in the morning.

arboreal locomotion, vol.1

cause the words that i'm saying/don't register on your face, and --

--------------------------

if you were for me/i'd be sleeping at your house

and if you were for me/there would not be any doubt

that you were for me

things change. seasons, people, emotions, surroundings.

open/close. doors, minds, hearts.

thank you for all that i've learned from you and from being with you. please just go.