Everything is New

Do you heed that clear
voice denouncing your dealings?
Or does the world pull you past
all your feelings?

I slow here
in all my weird ways,
seeing true
as I enter the sacred
space of you.

I once ascribed to a
foundling theory, over-
whelmed by white male bluster.
Needing to scream, ahead of
my dreams.  I abandoned
my frass, called it survival, never
knowing how to thrive.

I could burst this bubble
with my embrace.
Just give me space
to duck under
where I know the roots
of our true love grow.

Inspired by: Bubble, Ascribe, Ahead, and Scream and Frass (Robert McFarlane’s Word of the Day: “frass” — the dust & refuse produced by boring insects as they tunnel into timber, leaf or stem. Figuratively, therefore, a writer’s rejectamenta; the words discarded in the process of composition (from the German fressen, to devour).