I dreamed of you before you were born

Day 80
photo by Wilson Alvarez

photo by Wilson Alvarez

I dreamed of you before you were born.
You met me on the bridge,
above flowing water, sparkling like the finest diamonds,
the clearest prism,
the closest star.
You took me by the hand and led me through the darkest forest,
carpeted with  moss,
Usnea hanging from the trees,
The wood thrush singing,
singing,
singing.
You showed me horses,
stallions and mares of every color,
spotted, strong,
kicking up dust in the meadow
between the stands of trees.
They were fast,
so fast.
And wild,
so wild.
And then the Sequoia,
tall, towering high above our heads,
and the tops of other trees.
“Here. ” you gestured.
“This is where I come from.” you said.
‘Here is my home, in the branches high above,
in the roots beneath our feet. This tree is important to me.”
I smiled at your obvious joy,
the way you touched the rough bark,
the slender needles.
Loving, familiar.
And then we met Welita,
your Daddy’s grandma,
younger than I had ever seen her,
dressed all in white,
so happy to see you,
took your hand,
“this one’s special. ” she said, smiling at you.
“You’ll help him know how to live in the world,
how to find his way. He needs to be with you.”
And after that dream,
I could feel you moving,
first butterfly flutters,
way beneath my heart.
You are my son,
my moon,
my stars,
my sky.
I love you so much Revel,
Love,
Your Mama
photo by Wilson Alvarez

photo by Wilson Alvarez

Our guest post tonight is from my beautiful and brave sister Andrea. Your sensitivity and purity of emotion is a light in a sea of dark. Thank you for always following your heart. I love you.
I am strong. Although at times I do not feel strong. Sometimes my heart aches and bleeds and weeps for unspoken and unseen things. Beautiful things. Grotesque and ugly things. Sometimes my heart aches for the honesty that doesn’t come. The ghostdust, burning realization that all is not true. All is not pure and sacred and real.
There are certain realities that live inside all of us. Realities like raw open wounds that we try to ignore, try to run from, try to mask and numb. These realities are strange spirits clinging to our skin, screaming and wailing like lost souls. Refusing to be ignored, refusing to be brushed under the rug.
We need to wake up to these realities in order to be free.
If your soul and heart are hurting, acknowledge it. Feel it. Make a fucking change. Fucking do something about it.
I REFUSE to hurt any longer. This is my song,  my raw and bloody melody to the universe.
I am sending out my intention. To the cosmos. The trees. The moon. The stars. My heart is howling it out to the seas.
I refuse to be a prisoner of my own mind.
If you need help, fucking ask for it. Cry. Sob. Fall to your knees. Beat your fists in fury. FURY!
I am furious. I am on fire. I’m not going to hide it. My eyes are burning like furious angry stars, but I’m still not hiding, I’m still not afraid. Do not be afraid. Fear is the mind-killer. I feel like shit today and I’m not gonna hide it. I am angry. I am angry. I am ANGRY….!!!
Whatever it is, say it again and again, until you’ve purged yourself of it. And you will.
Dance it. Sing it. Play it. Write it. Paint it. Draw it. Create it with your hands. Create the feeling. Create the hurt and the scars and the anger. Create it and it will become something beautiful. And you will be free.
You will be free.
You will be free.
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