Uproot Me


I want to be uprooted.

Let the storms rip me from my tethers

and carry me away.


it might feel like chaos.

But it might also

feel like flying.


Sunlight on her wrist

Sun came in through the blinds as she laid in bed, casting a band of light directly down the center of her wrist. As if she had sliced herself and found golden light underneath. She laid there, that dreamy morning, and imagined that we are all full of light. Not blood, not tissue, not bone, but rays of sun. Maybe that’s what people are looking for, when they hurt themselves. Maybe they want to see that there is still a glow, just a small one, still there, hiding beneath the surface.