The crab
rips off its claw
when it no longer works
and grows a new one
back to its normal size
like nothing ever happened.
When my cells locate
something toxic inside me,
they automatically
remove it.
It’s nature’s law that I
release.
Follow my body’s impulse
to cut out what is unhealthy
to leave space and allow for
the healthy to grow.
“Release.” – bem
The flame.
Oxygen fans flames
to keep them alive
like souls in bodies.
Breathing in –
inhaling,
dragging, drawing,
sometimes panting,
or even gasping –
to stay alive.
Then the inevitable
exhale.
The contraction of the lungs.
Release.
Relief.
Then expanding once more –
to stay alive.
Fanning the flame of the human spirit.
First the initial spark.
Then brightening,
glowing,
flickering,
dimming than bursting.
Oxygen flowing in and out –
to stay alive.
The seasons.
Throughout the seasons,
the leaves on a tree
change
one by one.
Winter, spring, summer, and fall,
and back again.
In winter,
the barren branches frost over,
covered in crystals,
and slumbering to survive
in the darkness.
In spring,
gradual thawing
leads to growth.
The blossoming begins,
sap seeps through the cracks.
Expanding,
Thriving,
Feeding,
Feasting.
Opening to the sun,
dancing in the rain.
In summer,
the leaves laugh –
tickled by the wit of the wind
breezing by
and reaching up to the light
in a mutual embrace.
Basking,
Glowing,
Giving and receiving.
In autumn,
the preparation begins.
Storing nutrients and
cutting off leaves.
Each turning colors,
then spiraling from sky to soil,
performing its grand finale.
Gradually,
the tree fortifies itself
and lays down to rest.
And then,
the frosting and slumbering
begins again.
Our bodies are like nature
with the intelligence and wisdom of trees.
All of our parts
sensing and feeling the time.
Responding,
Working,
Sharing,
Expanding and contracting,
Sleeping.
And still,
every time the season turns,
we panic as though we’ve never
been through this
dozens of times.
But we have –
We’ve simply
forgotten.
Since,
like the trees,
the seasons
keep us
brand new.
“The seasons.” – bem
Today, you are born.
Everything has re-created itself for you.
And in response,
All there is to do is love.
Inhaling, exhaling.
Eyes cracked open for the first time,
Seeing:
the world for the first time.
Your mother, your father,
Your sister, your brother.
Yourself –
for the first time.
Him, her, us, them – all.
The dense blades of lush green grass
and blazing canary yellow sunlight.
Cool, cerulean skies
dotted with shape shifting cotton candy clouds.
Wind rushing toward your fresh face,
Glittering ocean waves.
Entire bodies of water
re-created for you
to love for the first time.
The feeling of cool, gritty sand
slipping through your clenched fists,
shifting underneath the weight of your feet.
The first time you heard a crack of thunder,
Shivered in the rain,
Then tasted a warm strawberry sunset.
Experiencing it all today
For the first time.
And in response,
All there is to do is love.
Inhaling, exhaling.
Until you lay down for another rest.
Until, again, the opportunity presents itself –
Born again, to another new day.
The world re-creates itself for you.
And you awaken, and crack your eyes open,
To love it all again,
Like it’s the first time.
“Today, you are born.” – BEM
The most fearful moment is
when we stand on that ledge
looking down below
from the airplane
cliff
diving board.
Butterflies in your stomach
Life flashing before your eyes
Like film,
polaroids,
stills.
But the weird thing about it is
If we never took that leap of faith,
Swallowed that ball in our throats,
Ignored the butterflies
and the adrenaline that made our
blood pump and hearts race like hell,
There would be no highlight reel
8×10 glossies
Instagram feed
of memories
Flashing through our minds.
And so, as we go on,
There will always be that new moment,
Dying for its place on the reel.
And the only thing that allows it to happen
Is that same moment
In different places
At different times
On different ledges
Where we find ourselves
Feeling that screaming feeling
Between fear and courage.
Mocking you,
Taunting you,
Because oftentimes what looks and feels like falling down
Is really a jolt up
Into that sparkling, crackling, newness,
And the look down is merely
A reminder
of what you’ve accomplished
Lying beneath you, behind you, underneath you.
Supporting you
As you stand tall,
preparing to skyrocket forward.
Screaming
between clenched teeth,
eyes,
fists
Into that sparkling, crackling, newness.
“The ledge” – BEM
When I love myself,
I love the world.
When I respect myself,
I respect the world.
When I love myself,
I love the world.
If eternity is within
a grain of sand,
All of humanity
is within itself.
My neighbor is my mirror.
I look into his eyes
and I see myself.
When I speak to my sister,
I hear myself.
Self-love, self-care, self-respect
are all just an act of
community service.
When I love myself,
I love the world.
When I love the world,
I love myself.
“compassion is self care” – BEM
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
Yesterday, I woke up a caterpillar.
Lazily slugging along
through the autumn leaves.
Nibbling and grazing,
Plumping and lengthening.
Accustomed to life on earth,
Contented and ever looking forward
To what met me next
On that damp, solid ground.
Then, the time
And instinct came.
“Rise higher.”
So I climbed the tree,
Created a new home for myself
Until I was surrounded in that silken,
Darkened womb.
Topsy-turvy,
Upside down.
Suspended in mystery.
Then came time,
Instinctively,
To digest myself
In that magical soup.
Upside down,
All my experiences
Encased in silk
Breaking down and reforming
While the world steadily turned around me,
I patiently waited within myself
To see how I
Reformed.
And instinctively,
I emerged –
My old home no longer fit.
Suffocated –
I broke out.
Still emerging,
The world still turning around me,
Urging
“Go higher.”
Shaking off these new things –
Wings.
I’m beckoned
“Fly.”
And so, I do.
And when it’s time,
You, too, will know
Instinctively
That it’s time to grow
Encased within yourself
All that you’ve consumed.
Marinating,
Breaking down,
Reforming.
In that magical, mystical
Darkness.
Until you’re beckoned
To the light
When your old home
Is outgrown.
You, too, will fly
Into that same sky,
Occasionally noticing
A little something
Slugging along, lazing along
Down below.
Satisfied with solid ground
Lazing along the dirt
And nibbling leaves
Not yet knowing the nectar
Of the beautiful flowers and that blissful freedom
That awaits you
In your new home
In the sky.
The magic of darkness. – BEM
heartbreak and cigarettes 