last month’s moon

he woke me in the middle of the night with kisses and gentleness, i know you’re really tired but you need to see the moon tonight. it might be the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.

he dressed sleepy me in a sweater and comfy pants, took my hand and led me out into the cool summer midnight. i yawned my way across the tree covered lawn and pebbled driveway to the clearing at the path that took us to the beach.

we stood atop the hill in what seemed like daylight, our shadows clear against the ground. the moon was big and bright and shone its light like iridescence across the waves, the only noise that night.

the ocean looked like mercury [the moonlight shimmering] it moving so fluidly across itself.

we stayed, he held me and my sunburn shivers stilled, i felt his heart at my side as it beat into me and woke me to the innate love we share. this is why we breathe. and maybe this is why the moon rose that night.

for love

and only love.

dreamstate

i’ve been dreaming of far-away places. of travelling and exploring countries anew. i’ve been dreaming of adventure, of cities stuck in my subconscious just waiting to arrive at my real life.

my mind is taking me to dreamstates i forgot even existed. and with so much talk of meant-to-be and mother earth with her whispers of wind and sea and silence all at once, it’s hard to ignore.

just then. just then, i looked up to see a rainbow in the sky.

you can’t tell me she’s not helping to direct my course. you can’t tell me she’s not listening to all my wills and wants. so, wherever is next is where i’ll be. travelling the hypnotic motion of everything as it should be.

22 sleeps

this is my wildest adventure yet, the one that’s come to life the best.
in all the time spent wandering this earth we’ve always shared, i’ve never known a greater journey
than this, travelling the veins of your love.
it’s all i want,
to be your breath,
to be the beating of your heart,
to find more of me in you
than i ever knew
there ever was.
life in all its magic and wonder
and you,
you in all of you,
just as you are.

it still is


[hall of mosses. hoh rainforest, washington.]

ripples from raindrops in a forest made of moss. i miss you
though it hasn’t been too long…
but my sobs and your words and reddened eyes and our hands that held each other’s tight tight tight take me back and put me right where our bodies left off.
and it makes my heart throb in aching and pining
and it makes me want time to rewind
to fast forward
to just not be right now.
though i want the now the happiness the love to fill me in the loneliness.
i want the emptiness to end and the you to start all over again.

september

a new month.
i’ve been so long, here with you,
not nearly long enough.
and i think about the time we spent
where it all went
what we did and how we stayed so still
in the quiet moments.
the moments our hearts spoke only what we meant.
we couldn’t buy this kind of love. we couldn’t even dream it. yet here we are, bathing in river mist and mountain peaks and rainforests shrouding us in the greenest most deliberate decorated mossiness.

you put your toes in any water and feel the cold or surprising warmth. and it makes me smile when you jump in
seeing you come out all wet
with goosebumps
pricking water droplets
sending them rolling off your skin.
is it the rain or the river?

it doesn’t seem to change, no matter how much i push or pull time just scurries right away from all this is. no matter how much we want it to stop still and rest for a bit. no matter how much it suffocates and liberates and drowns and frees all the outrageous realities we’re slowly, beautifully sinking in between.

we bury our toes and open our hearts and let it all unfold in a beautiful picture of all that has passed
of all that’s yet to come.

life happens so fast.

the healing vibes of the great outdoors

i remembered what he said when he told me how the earth breathes. he told it to me in waterfalls, that man with missing teeth and black hair tucked behind his ears. he showed it to me, the heartbeat, the rise and fall of her lungs, the way she moved as earthly sounds spread, echoing across her skin. and it moved. it did. the earth, she breathes.

and i remembered this as i walked along a stretch of coastline that brought me back to myself. as i stopped and watched the clouds, the sea, moving and breathing with me as we tracked along steep cliffs that plummeted into the wild aquamarine. crashing waves and blackened rocks. rolling hills and rocky trails. trees and flowers and shrubbery. just three friends and me. we trekked lightly as she held us up and pushed us forward in soft wind and light shadows from rolling clouds above, all warmth and cool, just right and just enough.

i don’t know why i stayed away so long, when i know, i always know, one breath of clean, crisp air, one step into the wilderness, one more step away from all sounds of civilisation… and i’m free.

nothing less than everything

i want to hear a sand dune sing. i want to skid and roll down its endless hills, headfirst into this wonderful real life dream i walk my wonderful capable body within. i dive and sink when i swim in the greatest biggest seas, but it’s there i touch the earth
where it gets deep.
where i feel closer to its heart, its home. where i hear coral, currents and fish sing in bubbling marine melodies.
they remind me and i grow.
and i want to see stars explode, and scatter me with the true unknown. i want to fly through clouds, dense and white and cotton ball like.
i want to press my ear against a tree and hear life beating through its branches and leaves and wrap my arms around its width and know that it
makes
me
breathe.
and i will breathe until my lungs become the roots that spread the life and love into my blood. its life extends to me extends to everything that holds me up.
i want to hear chiming smiles as the sun declares its sleeping thoughts and carries us with a moonlit lullaby into restfulness and calm.
i want my day to know the poetry of all this world can teach. in faithfulness and surprise, i’ll trust, i’ll find why,
and how it unravels and unwraps and leaves me bleeding seawater breath stained with sand dunes, clouds, stars and leaves, the sun and the moon and everything between.

over the past little while

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i left carly and sun river with a pinch of sadness, a little reluctance, sure, but i knew it was the right time to move. i thumbed it and road tripped with logan. the boy with the guitar. he’s all pisces, through and through. like me. he made the ride a joy – jiving and joking, bouncing and buzzing off a way-too-big caramel macchiato. he reminded me of three people at once – but for the life of me i couldn’t tell you who.

i met morgan, here, in hood river, like it was no big deal. like we weren’t reuniting completely out of context. in her hometown. in a place where she keeps all her memories and stories, through forests, in waterfalls along ridge lines, through orchards and wineries.

today we hiked to tamanawas falls. i was [illogically] scared of bears. mountain lions. wolves. i was walking while adrenaline was pumping, hard through my veins, all the way to the end. to the waterfall, which fell wide and slim. cold water. a glacier runoff. don’t drink it. she laughed.

we scrambled across a rock face, loose and sturdy – who knew which was which – and found ourselves behind the falls. behind! do you believe it?! it was like magic. the water streaming down in front of us – looking back into the valley. into! do you believe it?! it was like magic. between the excitement and the adrenaline, i couldn’t think straight. we sat, for a minute. took photos. stared in relative silence [the sound of the falls overtaking all others] and marvelled. oh well done mother nature. well done. you served us well today. well done.

we climbed down moss rocks and mud to the base of the falls. to where the spray saturated us. to where we looked up and whirled with vertigo. [to where the water looked like it could brutalise, bury and rescue you, all at the same time.] i lost my feet and slipped, on my bum, down gravel rocks and wet. adrenaline now doing nothing more than making me yelp and warn morgan, below me, of our possible demise into the base of the waterfall.

alas! death did not come. not by falls, not by bear, not by sliding into a ravine [perhaps a place we shouldn’t have been.]

but thank you mother nature, for your kindness in keeping us safe. for your provision of a waterfall so goddamn, unimaginably, breathtakingly beautiful. for the hundreds or thousands of who-knows-what-happened years that formed this place in the very first place. oh man, this world. this land. this life. oh me oh my, this land this life.