when hearts collide

I felt it shelter to speak to you.
— emily dickinson
 from about a year ago . . . I had hair then. LOL!

from about a year ago . . . I had hair then. LOL!

Two days ago I wrote that I am a misfit, a lone wolf. Not complaining, just stating the truth. Two days ago, I wrote about calling forth the lone wolves because I sense that they are my tribe - - - The wild, wonderful women all over the country, all over the world, who just can't cram their bodies, their minds, their souls into the mold any longer. 

I sounded so alone, lamenting what could have been, aching for what could be. 

Today I am reminded that when I look into the dark woods, I see eyes staring back at me. They are already here. My tribe. My wild women. My Lone Wolves. I see you there. I feel your presence. I hear your breathing. Our hearts are colliding.

It is no small gift to be blessed to share physical space with another woman seeking her soul path. I inhabited shared spaced today with Heather Mattern, an exquisite soul sister. Our words rushed over each other, fast and furious but with so much grace and peace. I am reveling in the aura of vision and love. 

Heather calls herself a writer mama and she is. I see her as poetess healer. She has written two books of beauty and wisdom.

The Grey Muse is a book of love letters from the wise old woman to the younger self. For the introduction alone, I would own it. 

Warning: boxes don’t fit around her. She cannot be caged. Pay attention, but don’t try to make sense of her. One simply breathes life into her bones.

The whispers between these pages:

They are hers.
They are mine.
They are yours.

They are love notes
From your very own
Old woman.
— heather mattern, the grey muse

me too


you need people don't hibernate too long,

There is a time for rest, yes
a time for darness too but
please don't forget how you crave the words, 
"yes, me too, me too."

and remember other seek your reply,
"I thought I was the only one."

so lay your head down
relax into your slumber
but when you wake

be ready to leave the cave.

Her new book is Love, Sex, and Other Miscommunications. It's a honest look at the real, the beautiful, and the messy pursuit of happily ever after. 


Raven Lungs

Sometimes I swear my lungs are a raven
flapping its wings and clawing its way up my throat

Sometimes I can't breathe.
I try but grasping for air leaves me breathless
so I grab my keys and run.

Windows down I drive and drive
til I find a place to hide and guide them.

I shouldn't have to command lungs
to inhale, exhale, in, out
but sometimes
sometimes, our love is just too intense


If you are a lone wolf like me and you have tipped your head, listening for the wild cry of your another singing your song, go check out Heather's site. I think you will find what you are looking for there.