Move.

A lyrical piece

A song that hold hands fondly with this lyrical piece, listen with the reading, or soon after.

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I know how to wallow,
to curl my shoulders

and taste the salt that seasons my mouth with yesterdays tears.

I can drag my feet in circles

and

let

shadows

become

friends.

Storms don’t pass over me
just because the flowers I saw were holy that day
and the light that came through the window
drenched my skin in way that told my entire body

that

goodness

exists—

This is where the fight is
the line,
the veil between,
the choosing—

We

must

move.

When it hurts, move
When it stings, move

When the words are lost,
go on the noble walk and find them.

When it breaks your heart,

move.

Move,
move,
move.

Photography: Captured by dear friend Tara Samuelson on film

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Below is a recent lyrical piece that might adjoin beautifully to this reading moment if you care for some more —

An undefinable, hot-hearted thing.