In trusting the process

I trust myself to navigate

the highs and lows that

change

with each moment,

my own tidal surges,

pushed and pulled by my lunar heart.

My heart that

drips from my lips and

bleeds from my fingertips.

I bleed ink

with a depth of authenticity

that few can handle

Or so they tell me.

Still I open,

the petals of my heart

parting to soak up the sun,

if only to reflect the radiance

on a world that may or may not

be ready to bask in it;

for what is living

if we are not loving.

x

© Multimedia painting by Savannah Wishart