me

Gather together
curls of dignity
fallen to the base of my spine.

Gather together
what hid to make way
for necessary functioning
in a loud place whose
anger drowned out wee whisps of becoming.

Remember the older woman who walked with me in springtime through grasses,
who listened, who said
she'd be there for me if I needed. 
Remember her hand on my braid in the dark
the night we sat around an unlit fire (to keep the land safe 
which had burned).

How true love stands up in every circumstance, untarnished by what, or who, or how, or when.   

I'm making a pocket of dignity here.
A space in which to care for me.
Not against but simply as.
an imprint.
a realness.
a me.

If I want to give away, it begins here. 
​By giving up the chains that have kept my  me-ness bound. 
My gifts arise freely from this place of unabashed dwelling.