Art by-


I want to find the place where 
all the shapes live inside of me,

so I can take them all out.

I will wrap each one with love,
tenderly and keep them near.
Then, if I ever want them, 
to talk to somebody who 
never found theirs, perhaps 
they tried but felt too fearful
or too naked without them; 
I could unwrap one and wear 
a familiar shape in which
to comfort them and later, 
remove it, put it safely 

away, that I might, again
see everything uncovered,
outside of the lines that you 
painted encircling me 

thinking to keep us both safe.
I know that it’s dangerous, 
that without perfect balance
I might burn from exposure 
or lose myself, drowning in 
endless opening, perhaps
drift away on a breeze, or 
fall, to lie on the sun-warmed 
ground, having forgotten why standing is important. 
You see, how easily we 
are tempted to grow new lines,
the small beginning’s, tendrils, 
hesitation and concern,
I will wrap them, carefully,
store them, safe with the others,
never stopping until I 
fade like notes on a bards harp
until the very air itself
becomes but one of my breaths.


Art – Joanna Salska

In perfect solitude,never alone,
an Isle whole, amidst the dreams undone.

A greying form set deep in evening wood, 
practices stilling time In firey blood

Beyond my home somehow an oddity,
to those who fear all incongruity.

So tangible where their allegiance lies,
their fear finds no reflection in my eyes.
Almost too vivid, as if I might burn, 
the eyes or hearts that dared to look too long.

Touched by the wolf and heron’s majesty, 
the rainbows arc, aurora’s mystic light,

these are the things that set my spirit free, 
Joining their fire to bring my eyes alight.*
This old owl’s imbued, illumined  grace, 
whose lighted eyes know even darkness’ face,
tracing the beauty in all things they see,
the trail of laughing immortality.

Resting on this hill above the  field,
I wait to see what way lightning will take.

And having learned that I am dreaming still,
await wakening’s promise to fulfill.