07/25/2025
From desert to desert,
I crossed in silence and fire
not always knowing your name,
but always knowing you.
The sun rose on cracked earth,
and I listened.
Not with ears, but with the hollow behind my ribs
where your voice already lived,
before your body ever stirred.
You came to me in a dream of dust,
and in the morning I remembered
the softness I had buried,
the fierceness I had tempered,
the vastness I had forgotten.
You are the pause between breaths,
the moment the wind shifts direction
and something ancient awakens
in my blood.
My bones have made a home for you,
my skin stretched to carry
not just your body,
but the memory of every woman
who ever sang her child into being.
You do not belong to me,
not really.
But I am yours.
Completely.
