Movements of the sacred ache I. The Knowing There’s something I have always known, in my hips, in my breath, in the heat that wakes me when no one’s there. I was made to be met. Not claimed. Not chased. Met. I do not want fingertips that search, I want hands that remember. Mouth that …
I leave with you pieces of myself, my soul in attendance, the spirit and my mind, in all the rollercoasters of life, My paper plane flew regardless of the absence present in the wind.
Nene's Corner 