onward and westward

wandering around wondering

the breeze blew on the 
west ferns
while the east moss
stayed quiet and still

the breeze blew on the 

west ferns

while the east moss

stayed quiet and still

Still find myself holding my breath on this day sometimes.

(circa 2011)

Still find myself holding my breath on this day sometimes.

(circa 2011)

Waxing gibbous 11:11pm

The hour of my birth

I might’ve cried upon my first breath

Out of the womb of my sweating mother.

Who knew at five, me

Blowing out candles of a coconut cake

Donned in a white tutu, tulle fluffed

Would see the things we have seen.

We licked a turquoise glacier

Bathed in a milky blue lagoon

Walked up the tiny steps of the Inca

Through the everlasting ruins of Angkor.

You and I

Rode through the clean streets of Montreal

Swam in a crystal cenote,

Rose with the brilliant sun on a magical lake.

We crossed the whole country

From sea to shining blue sea

Ate the sweetest of sweets.

Ballerina girl,

You didn’t know that you would grow

to fall in love with yourself and your life,

up and into yourself

We had gotten lost, and although we didn’t know it at the time, it was for the best. Spot 127 had a spectacular backdrop, nestled at the foot of the cliffs near the Virgin River. When the sun peaked over the mountain, the firey sun beat down on us and sent us searching desperately for shade. We found relief underneath a small tree and thanked the gods for the small leaves that sheltered us.
We discovered the river and spent the hours wading in its cool current, not too fast, but not unstill. The mountain water swept away the sweat of the heat and cleansed our bodies of the city. We sat on the banks of white sand, catching up on the sleep we’d lost on the journey, and kept our clothes off until the sun laid lower on the western hills.
In the late, still warm afternoon we took a drive to nowhere that led us to a long, windy highway that was going somewhere. We stopped in the middle to admire the vast walls of sandstone and then made our way through the mile-long tunnel. It had taken three years to blast through and about three minutes from one end to the other in our modern car.
On the other side, a trail full wonder, with narrow walls below and a magical hollowed out cave, led us to a high lookout point through one of Zion’s canyons. The sunset was breathtaking and reminded me of why I was alive.

We had gotten lost, and although we didn’t know it at the time, it was for the best. Spot 127 had a spectacular backdrop, nestled at the foot of the cliffs near the Virgin River. When the sun peaked over the mountain, the firey sun beat down on us and sent us searching desperately for shade. We found relief underneath a small tree and thanked the gods for the small leaves that sheltered us.

We discovered the river and spent the hours wading in its cool current, not too fast, but not unstill. The mountain water swept away the sweat of the heat and cleansed our bodies of the city. We sat on the banks of white sand, catching up on the sleep we’d lost on the journey, and kept our clothes off until the sun laid lower on the western hills.

In the late, still warm afternoon we took a drive to nowhere that led us to a long, windy highway that was going somewhere. We stopped in the middle to admire the vast walls of sandstone and then made our way through the mile-long tunnel. It had taken three years to blast through and about three minutes from one end to the other in our modern car.

On the other side, a trail full wonder, with narrow walls below and a magical hollowed out cave, led us to a high lookout point through one of Zion’s canyons. The sunset was breathtaking and reminded me of why I was alive.