She is ideas, feelings, urges, and memory. She has been lost and half forgotten for a long, long time.
She is the source, the light, the night, the dark, and daybreak.
She is the smell of good mud and the back leg of the fox.
The birds which tell us secrets belong to her. She is the voice that says,
‘This way, this way.’
~Clarissa Pinkola Estes
when I begin to see the underbelly…
inquiry for today~ may you seek understanding….
We try so hard-
We cling to everything—clothes,
memories, dreams—so tightly when
only burning them will warm us.
We want so badly to come alive
when to do so we must die along
And finding love, we want to hide
it like a treasure at the bottom of
the sea. Instead life humbles us
to be the flag to each other’s wind.