Kneel as it falls.
Kc- 26.01.12
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mending whole was good as new. What is broken is broken – and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
— Emily Lopez
Kc. 11.01.12
Lino Print.
Well, I wonder.
my soul clings to the walls of ocean caves:
soaked shadows and lights echoing back
absent voices of mine and feelings
i can never make sense of—
for i live from a conviction of the sacredness
of my own individuality;
as if i am grappling for solid ground
with death beneath my feet,as if all the oceans and hallowed icons
were contained in my palm:
a hymnal with one verse
singing her only praise
i read it through the breath of the morning rain,
i feel it through the being of my lone oak tree;
as if the universe herself
were some allegorical creature,
creating and existing only to rehearse, play,
and celebrate
her scared ancient rites
