The moment I passed it over my shoulders and down the length of my torso, I knew this was a definitive piece you wear like a bad attitude.
The leopard print scarf I wore while gypsying around Venice.
My travel companion said it was made for me.
I am a hunter. Beauty is leopard skin deep.
I am a woman who nurtures and needs nurturing, who excites and craves excitement, who believes in the possibility of great romance and great strength. We survive our disappointments like we do our ideas. They go hand in hand.
Wouldn’t it be nice if in life we had the convenience of price tags to guide us through our selection process? You can have this fabulous, handsome man who gives you everything for the price of catering to his ego and insecurities. Or this “dream” job can be yours for the small sum of all your time, integrity and energy. Sometimes we take what we can get because we feel it is what we are worth. Other times, we fight for the “more” we think we deserve.
Some silences are a quiet relief.
Some silences are polite.
Some silences, a disguise.
This silence, this cause for attention, is an abrupt void. It alludes to sorrow, with its cutting edges and desperate measure.
The cashmere coat I found in Paris. I took myself for my birthday.
Alone in the city of light with my dark, dark heart.
The sweater I took
the day I left
because it smelled like him.
Sometimes, if not always,
you have to
experience what you don’t want
to discover what you might.
It’s an unstable science.
It isn’t exact,
but it is true in some spiritual sense
of trial and error.
We have war wounds to testify for the fight against time, but we must celebrate somehow these fine line experiences and acknowledge their truth. We survive what we know is inevitable; life leaves its traces. I have my scars.
Hand me my wrinkle cream, won’t you?
I see the great crease in my forehead getting deeper. Perhaps I thought too much. And the lines around my eyes grow longer.
I might have laughed too hard. And the scars of my heart;
I may have loved too deeply.
In a fight for equality,
women have tipped the scales out of their favor.
A woman is a being of grace and beauty that is
worthy of the pedestal she has kicked from beneath her feet.
The delicate beaded dress I found in the Bahamas. I wore it to a friend’s wedding. My “soul mate” was there with his girlfriend but couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. Delicate and rooted deep, our history of distance.