‘I Am Here’

I feel sorrow for the mornings that you tell me you can’t go on. I feel sorrow for the days that go wasted away. I feel sorrow for the nights that you never show up to.

I sympathize for you. With my loving heart I give patience. I give grace. I try, and I try to hold space. But I am not here to tell you just what you want to hear.

I am not here to spare change to a homeless man. I am not here to let the weeds grow. I am not here to polish your shoes.

I am here to be the gentle breeze that strengthens your branches. I am here to be the song of the morning bird that wakes you from your slumber. I am here to be the crisp winter air that enters your lungs and enlivens your being. I am here to be the pillow where you rest your head after a stressful day. I am here to be the soil that grows your prettiest blooms. I am here to be the honey in your tea. I am here to be the sweetness of your dawn. I am here to be the bitterness of your dusk—the imperfection, the struggle, the pain, the darkness— I am here for that too. I am here to be the ocean air that awakens your spirit. I am here to be the pouring rain that you dance in. I am here to be the blazing summer sun that warms your face. I am here to be the darkroom where you develop. Except not like a photograph— staying the same, I am here to change with you.  I am here to be exposed to you. I am here— myself, to expose you.

I am here to push you. I am here for the nudge. Like an old glove that no longer fits— becoming useless; your old routine dies. Again and again. I am here to love you through it. I am here to offer you shelter through it. I am here to tell you that you fucked up. I am here to scream the truth to you, in a melodic way. And with each beat, with each passing day, I will give you my realest gifts.

'Thai Basil Eggs And You'

Enwrapped in their sweetness those summer mornings always left too soon. 
Morning light found us quick as the un-alarming sounds of soft voices singing met our ears. 
Wake up. You'd slide your hand on top of me gently touching my back. 
We'd share our morning thoughts and countless kisses. But not for long, i'd get up first. 
Heading up stairs shirtless, starting the coffee, and then barefoot I'd run down to the garden. Choosing carefully the perfect sprig of thai basil for the mornings eggs. 
And a small tomato to go with it some days. A large tomato would be too much for the two of us. We'd sit at the circle table in my kitchen eating our breakfast, rubbing our feet together like elementary students playing footsie. 
Those eggs were good eggs and those mornings were the best.