Building Roots: A History of My Heart (an ongoing development)

For the love of game,

called to a halt, a pause

a ubiquitous lockdown.

Takedown and a reminder

that my heart comes first,

to the stand,

to confession.

For the love of game,

I refuse to play along.

Mixed between songs.

Orchestral union,

a network of harmonic compliance

until wild and rogue emergence,

percussive prowess

and a valiant embarkation that gives just enough softness to allow winded vibrato

a space for passing through

Yet a feeling that lingers into eternity.

For the love of game,

I play in and out of time

where we meet in unknown moments

for the sake of insatiable sanity…

For the sake of the game,

the gain that lightens the load.

Here’s to building roots,

and the history of my heart…


Notes & recordings

of heartbeats & anthems.


Processing, denied.

To a desperate demand

I shoved myself

as far away as I could bury my mind into the mud…

drying out.

An extraction,

burrowed beneath.

A blanket too worn to hold my cold feet,

and aching fear,

a child’s pose,

face-down in a pillow.


As a mother,

I hear her call,

as she shows up in the light of my own offspring.

Still grasping at what to give,

and how to heal her,

when I realize she is simply offering me her pain,

and as resilient and ready as I am to be there for her,

she whispers to be here for my own heart,

the one that cracks with every breath,

with every bend.


The gift of darkness

reminded me that this frost is not forever

and my ice coated core

melts in memory and memorandum.


A pause,

a halt,

a ubiquitous lockdown.

Here’s to building roots

and roads that unravel...

to the history of my heart.


Mimetic practice and malleable mind play.

There was a musical shift that broke through to a remembrance

then,

perfectly present,

I fell forward

to hands and knees

to explore and navigate myself amongst gravity

within my own dwelling,

amongst many others

I am just as magical as you

and you are the bright expansion of light

outreaching and cross-colliding into the truest matrix,

we somehow forgot to honor,

and as I pull my shoulders open

tears and breathing

lightyears of hidden pain

the kind that feels familiar enough to forget

until ice melts and the rich Earth beneath

breathes warm and gentle.


Proceed with caution

tread lightly

but nonetheless proceed

cautiously

slippery sidewalks

forceless, footless steps

behind a momentum of misguided madness

a management microscopically minded…

Then...

atmospheric electricity

wrapped in total recall

in sacred space and encrypted encounters

for the sake of safety and solitude

there is a door that opens to the woods...to the wounds,

and while wandering with want

I found a place to surrender.



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