You are my mirror image.
You are low currents in mid air stream.
You make it easy to ride this wave.
But you are work. So I avoid phone conversations with you every so often.
You are sister circles and safe spaces.
You tongue twist in unspoken tongues and you still speak tongues.
And tongues speak you, Spirit.
You are unafraid to speak, Spirit.
You are sex talk to talking about sex, unabashed.
You are naked conversations and willing explorations that tip the scale.
You are a libra though.
And libras are conscious of their presence.
Libras are aware of their image.
We act like we don’t see the mirror, we don’t like the mirror, we ignore the mirror
but librars are actually mirrors.
We fight against the carnal.
We fight against the contortions.
We fight and fight and
then we walk away because the fight is not worth the fight.
And still, You Are.
Precious mothering…oh how you fight again/against titles like
But work through that shit, Mother.
I am removing the word fight.
And although it has been a minute since you’ve played,
You still play, Twin.
You are a playmate.
You are playful.
You are fun foolish and frightfully frank in your play.
And you play the role well.
Bare boned, brawn, brown, beDazzled
Yes, You Got Back, Babyyy. [Wear dem jeans!]
But when flesh is figurative in its stance
when it becomes unimportant because we are un-central in this story
when we no longer worry about the story
when we don’t know what the story is
And we forget titles, talking, even tongues
when we sit quietly
when we listen to silence talk
The scales will then balance themselves out.
It won’t matter what’s going on in this world.
It won’t matter.
And you, P, get that.
You understand the power of playing this out in its most natural listening form.
Heal. Water. Caress. Spirit. Quiver & Quake. LightUp. QueenB.Still. Breathe. Birth.