This is a song to sing to your heart when core gives out and all you can feel is the sand rain down.
Please, she said. Please. Return to yourself.
I can feel for miles, sandblasts if I walk too far from the sea. We run closer to the ocean waves, chase birds. Bello still wishes they’d take him up up and. He circles back, barks free and wild. As if the ocean air, the sand and the birds awaken his senses.
I run alongside, I see others run alongside, too. As if the sea gives us permission.
I dream of living here: the ocean: my heart. The shore: my home.
We’ll take a moment, the opportunity is before us to drive up the 101 and write this book. Together, we’ll decide if the ocean calling is a myth. Is this where we’ll disappear? Or am I city bound? My roots so strong, they’ve got to pull me back before I’m gone gone.
I stood at the ocean’s mouth. I felt the water beckon surrounding my body. Reaching for [my] truth.
We are moving towards Aquarius Full Moon. A lunar eclipse. An end. A beginning.
This is the time to come back. Come back. Come back.
Mothers constantly reminding us to love, love ourselves, love yourself. Be who you are.
Who are you?
Live authentically–you. That is the alarm call in the newsletter I proofread this morning for astrologyheals.com–written by a mother.
A liquid fire ignites our truth.
When we wake and hear our truth escaped our throat hollows, eyes widen. Heart beats blood and face flush. A self that isn’t afraid to speak spoke you.
And also not you.
Words sharp as shanks dive into another. I don’t want to hurt no one. No. I don’t.
But I do. I did. We hurt. We hurt others. Ourselves. To let the world know: we feel pain.
I tried to keep my mouth–the way a funeral director sews the mouth, sometimes with thread, sometimes with wire, so the dead looks beautiful. Perfect.
She’s just sleeping. Do you remember your dreams?
Sometimes I think we are too late. It isn’t too late to hear the words that need to be said outloud.
I can’t imagine not crying one day without tears. It’s not always because I feel my own and others’ suffering. I cry when I think of Bello, when I remember my sisters, when I see love–grow.
Mom said, you need to respect yourself. I didn’t know I had stopped.
Mom said, you need to love yourself. I didn’t know I had stopped.
Mom said, Please.
And all at once, the circle of women, the circle of love, strength and support I dream about, enveloped me.
Thank you Mom.