0.5
March 7, 2015

Our Hips hold the Secrets of the Breeze. {Poem}

 

a flourish of fabric

“Where there is a woman there is magic.” ~Ntozake Shange

Rosebuds dance rebelliously in our hair

Red poppies swing to sinful rhythms in the small of our backs

Blushing leaves scatter like butterflies, kissing our raw cheeks

and rolling moss hills support our strong barefoot steps.

 

The earth exhales, and we exhale, rooting down to rise up, up, up, from fiercely feathered lungs.

 

Our eyes, blessed with bits of stardust,

cut through diamond-hard, caked-on bullsh*t

to see crystalline blossoms of truth.

 

The rain pours, we splash in puddles, hair drenched, hearts happy.

 

We ride ruby red waves under the juicy full moon

whispering heartfelt truths like honey

and turning tears into roaring rivers of pure transformation.

 

The sun shines, we lap it up, bathing our shadows in pools of warm, shimmering light.

 

Our hips hold the secrets of the breeze.

We sway sultry, side to side

revealing sacred hibiscus nectar knowledge

and powerful passionfruit elixirs that can

cure

any

wound.

 

Our songs are symphonies born to radiate

like glowing neon sign nebulas

and fall like shooting stars

landing on every damn corner of this earth.

 

Far-reaching and incredible

are the voices that shake the most.

 

The earth has ears

and so does the breeze and sun and sea and wind.

They want to hear

us.

 

Us.

 

Unbelievably far-reaching and incredible

are the voices

and hips

and hearts

and souls

that shake the most.

Relephant read:

A Perfect Stranger. {Poem}

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: Flickr/erin_everlasting

Leave a Thoughtful Comment
X

Read 0 comments and reply

Top Contributors Latest

Sarah Harvey  |  Contribution: 78,360