women of the sea

I came to the coast to feel the calm of the ocean. when I arrived, she reminded me she was not known for the calm of her nature. people seek me out for my calm, but in reality, those smooth, soft days are few and far between. she sighed. deeply. intentionally. a sign that bred contemplation. once they arrive, they quickly realize the true wisdom behind my healing. I guess it is good you humans seek me out for my calm--for my comfort under those expectations is much less overwhelming, and without it, I wonder if you'd seek me out at all...her breath roared steadily;  her energy swelled and dipped effortlessly and ceaselessly switching direction. transitions that cannot be foreseen without proper attention. people seek me out for my calm, but in reality, they seek my strength. found in me is a reflection-- a moment with the mirror of one's own truth. they see in me the qualities they have been missing inside of themselves. look into my vastness. allow me to show you what you've been longing to see. for a moment my dear, let me hold you; attention and soul. let me heal those hurting bones, let me cleanse your tired feet. for right now in this moment, you needn't be strong. I can be that for both of us. for I am so happy to receive you. thank you for visiting me after so long. 


Sylvia Davis Mar

I don't want to remain hidden

but I also don't want to "be seen".

A discovery.

I guess it's been this way since I can remember.

May this be rooted in my difficulties of facing a life passed on?

Possibly one that ended abruptly and painfully.

Poor girl.

Weep validations for her soul.

So deeply enchanted with panicky escapism.

Just waiting to discover


The trees beckon her in.

A safety net.

The protection of millions of centuries.

Fabric that now is wearing thin.

Why continue to patch what deserves renewal?

through all the love and attention it sought out for you; 

it's "being"--

why pick at a wound as it yearns to heal?

Quit hurting yourself.

Pay attention,


Love your flaws and actively work through the crunchy parts.

Heart forward.

Bags and totes.

Enough to carry.

Enough to be held.

But if only She could find rebirth in this shell.



The birds sing to me

their ability for flight brings me




rooted with my sisters and brothers.

I am made of soil.

I am made of dust.

Light pours through the streams

and rivers illuminate the landscape.



How do you really know

if you are living?

What gives you the idea...

well, It's important to give.

Give presence.

Give honesty.

Give compassion and friendship and honor the bones you've been

given the chance to experience.

Be easier on them.

They carry the load .  

The Soul's Sherpa.

Sun rise and sundown.


Another chance.

Love them.

Find and honor the gratuity that swaddles you

like a fresh soul come down.

So worthy of being held.

Not yet aware there may be reason to run.

what do you fear they'll find out?

Who is the hunter?

She feels their presence.

Taunting me with fear.

Reject it.

At last it's only now an awareness.


It's not yours.

Forever, to be Held.

As the trees weep thank yous,

humbly they stand in

"my pleasure".


In love. 

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