low full moon;

February 27th, 2013 · 0 comments

monday night, and i am stepping out of an old, soft slip & into the carefully opened doorway of my little nest. there i hang clothesless and wounded and let the night hush, the cold air and the light of a low full moon wash over my hot, aching heart, my upturned palms, the quiet arches of my small, bare feet. i am me the most here, with my aloneness and the damp earth and my long hair hanging down, and i carry so much gratitude in my little body; a pale girl ghost in a doorway with the night, with the quiet fog, with the haunting coyotesong outside always singing my tired bird bones to rest.

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