In Time

A Haibun

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Fresh Blossoms in February|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

You fear a connection–the two of us, prone to falling before we should. It’s inevitable. In time, there will be wishes made to make us something we cannot become. I see it in your eyes, a glimmer of hope; a piece of understanding that things will probably turn out the way that they are meant to and not how we would like them to be. How odd, is it not? How love can stand in a pool of want and drain into a sea of forgetfulness… It is the manifestation of the elder mothers, wanting what is best for the girls who came after them, for their lineage to remain steadfast and strong enough not to break. But, we are cracking at the seams, splitting in two–two women yearning for affection when love stands in the air waiting for us to breathe it in. If only we had the strength to grab it and hold on. If only we could move out of the way, disappear to a place where minds remain open. If only we could…

I won’t deny it–
I am attracted to you
In time, love will win.

Made of Love

heartscar
At such an odd angle, I realized that I have a scar that is somewhat shaped like a heart. If only you guys could have seen me trying to tilt my head, fidget with my wrist, and maneuver the phone to get what I think is the best shot I can get of this thing. LOL. Maybe you can see it too, maybe not. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

wandering eyes shift toward
a scarred wrist.
from years ago, fate
was sealed.
I think to myself,
“how did love end up here?”
I tilt my head…
I flex my wrist…
I find myself searching for
a connection when the connection
is already there.

slowly, I guide my hand
into the light,
lean into its luminance
and nod in approval.
if this is not significant,
if this holds no mark of welcome space,
if this is not proof that
I was made to love,
then I do not know what is — or
what will be.

I try to capture its shape.
I share it with loved ones,
they see it. and they don’t.
and I find myself smiling
at something so odd yet
a mystery too.
my body’s home to this flaw
and I do not recall the origin.

but, it is here.
as it sometimes appears on buttered toast,
as traveling clouds, and
in crumpled pieces of paper cut,
folded, opened, closed, and re-opened again.
my reminder, that if there is
only one thing I assume to be
my purpose in life —
and will always be,
it is to love.


Because I need to market my work a bit better, I have logged onto Instagram. If you so choose, follow me here.

An Artist’s Vision

Total Acceptance 

From the mind of an exceptional Writer, Artist, & human being — DHBogucki. A bit of one of my favorite verses in scripture (John 13:34–35), inked on my skin.

Gently, 

the needle glides,

my skin becomes

a perfectionist’s canvas — 

a vision is born.

____________________________________

DHBogucki, who I lovingly call “B” blessed me with the ink you see above. I had an idea of what I wanted, pitched it to B, and he brought it to life. He’s a tattoo apprentice based in Western NC and a darn good one too! Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.