Cry with me, Mother, and let our teardrops turn to rock. You can strike me until I shatter into a million pieces: I will become the sands

I see the forests worshipped in their tall grandeur shading families from the scorching sun... From Colombia to Lenapehoking, this is Home 

The deep clouds have brought their storms, both destruction and nourishment bring about change, for one must die to be reborn

A ship that spends its existence anchored in place will never fulfill its destiny, never to set sail on the wild tides... Will you

We are told to bend but never break. But shattering into pieces allows us to rebuild ourselves in ways we could never imagine, rendering

The wind sends her whispers... Traveling through time itself to speak wisdoms and fill our hearts, we stood there listening to this language

Sun streaks peak through the blanket of clouds, painting the sky with rainbows: there is no color like the smell of damp earth. We dance...

I wish the moon would swallow me whole so I can bathe in the illuminescence of her white belly, so I can float weightlessly amongst lotus...

When the hazy purple dusk turns black, the shape of dunes on the horizon melts away into the Milky Way which stares at us with ancient...

I met two strangers in Harlem on a summers day in the vivid street and on the train because my heart was open

She ran home crying in her blood stained dress, she feared she was dying, her mother never told her about womanhood...

We sit in a pile of rubble and clutter holding onto the precious little things that remind us of the life we want to live that remind us...

In the enchanted expanse of the great Kalahari, on the day my path crossed with Elvis and that Rock, I died and lived yet again...

In all her searches for joy, she didn’t know what joy was and found herself running in circles, spinning a web: a cage of silken tears...