cradled by night,
the standing invitation
sings low:

i melt
at your eyes
when they’re heavy–
or flutter open.

i melt
with your tears–
when you sob
and when you giggle.


i melt
into your sighs–
when you’ve found a beginning,
or an ending.

whether it’s a morning of
cuddles and coffee
or of mascara
running down
your face,
i melt
and i
cannot
stop.

open your body to me and
let me touch the dreams
tucked deep in the darkest caverns
of your wonderful, wandering heart.

and–

just a note of permission
not that you needed it
you were already
free to:


be still and know
that you know who you are
hear the harmonies
of birdsong and sea
cease striving
to leash what is wild
feel the
resonance of being
take up
your freely given, infinite space
taste
the sweetness of salt in your wounds
feast
at the table prepared for you in no man’s land
let go
of the weight of constant demand
rest
in the midst of the torrent and gale
smell
the incense offered up by the earth
sacrifice
the safety of your blindness
see
yourself in a mirror of starlight

dance and
rhythm and
song and
seasons and


the everywhere of that
relentless,
staggering
hope, that


piercing,
aching
joy, that


shushing,
lullaby
love as it
penetrates
the swollen walls
of your battered soul
with the
growing
capacity
of our
oneness.

your heart may be scared,
but it is beloved,
and its stumbles
are dancing–


for what part of creation cannot dance
in the presence of you and me together?

one day of stopping and
water leaks out and
becomes wine in my mouth

the standing invitation
whispers in
the rippling chill of
earth stirring and
in shadows
cast by
the
first light of
dawn