knowing my feeling
a short poem + video… x
knowing my feeling
i’m weary of hearing the word sorrow
like a cloak they see draped upon my wide shoulders
as if it is mine alone to carry
maybe it followed me in from another time
or grew slowly like splayed lichen on my white bones
from touching too many broken things
i feel the tremble of trees with wind sighing
an ache laden behind strangers’ eyes though
i have never known how not to feel, ever ever
yet still i rise with language of birdsong humming
barefoot on our Mother living, breathing blue crisped sky
knowing my feeling is also, my precious gift.
—weaver © 2025
below… singing along with sister wind, out our window… x (((💚))) 💨💨💨
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"Feeling also, is my precious gift"
Thank you for this respite space of visuals, poetic and lyrical voice combined and contributing a reminder to this crazy world of ours of the soft beautiful pulse that is in each being, always and forever.