Come Sit With Me

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Come
Sit with me
I want to say,
It’s been such a long time.
 
Maybe this place is unfamiliar to you,
I know – I am also, still, not so sure of it,
or even how I came to be here.
 
I’m not sure which of my histories
had to emerge, defiant and victorious,
from the rest, for today to take
the shape it has, or why,
 
Or how to contend with
my other stories, so stubborn and sure
(so much more certain than I am),
each cropping up, in turn,
to ask something of me.
 
Maybe it’s like that for you, too,
where you are?
I would like to meet you there
and hear your stories.
 
I would like for the act
of our communion, though,
to be our beginning,
to form the core of our existence,
both yours and mine,
 
and for the stories
to enlighten us without taking over.
 
Let us sit together,
and not scramble for meaning,
or dismiss the struggle either.
 
Let us take all of it,
hold it in the space between us,
and breathe and love and be,
you and me,
 
And start
the only place we can,
here, now, free.
 
– TT
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The Life of Clouds

 

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The birds started first,
singing into the darkness.
Then the sun opened
the day up to the size
of our possible worlds. It
was expansive, the way
I imagine a desert would
be, at the break of day,
before thirst sets in,
when the body is still
thick with dreams, the
kind that beckon, invite.

The same world, a different
time. The clouds roll in,
form a dense layer between
us and the endless sky.
It always seems you
can reach up and touch
them, like they are our
shelter, our protection, as
though they are not
heavy with the responsibility
of nourishing the Earth, or
lacking in tangibility.

And I think, I don’t just
want my story playing
over and over; I want
them all. I want to be
everyone and everything
and all of history at once.
Not only to understand better,
but because there is just
so much to this life, too much
for our one psychology, and
I am and want to be
every colour, sound and
emotion at once, to finally
be the One in the All.

– TT

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Our Many, Our Whole

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My body, my land.

Containing all the stories

all the world in it,

but they are not all my own.

The whole is not simple,

vague or even pure.

We must never stop

listening to how this swirl

this totality morphs into the

particularities of me and

you, as we strive

and struggle to bring ourselves

to the whole with compassion

and understanding.

We are one, yes,

but it doesn’t end here;

we are still so incomplete

in our knowing,

if not our being.

May we always

listen

honour

respect

commit

to the mosaic of our

distinct stories.

Our bodies

Our landscapes,

Our jewels

build something

beautiful together. – TS

The Universe Whispers

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a whisper
breathed in
just the
right spot
 
where
shoots spring
from the warm,
dense forest
floor,
 
where drying
crackling
leaves sway
in the thin
mountain air,
 
where
the mother
ends and
the child
begins,
 
will echo
from here
to eternity
 
will reverberate
as forcefully
as a thousand
songs
 
will tell the
only stories
we need
to know. – TS

The World of Us

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Even now, we remember where freedom is, from where it cannot be taken away, and so I look in the mirror, and find not only myself, but all of my sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers, daughters and sons. We are all over the globe and we are also infinite. I find each of us standing in all our beautiful time-worn humility, experiences etched on our faces, stories unfurling from our hearts like the thread that is already saving the world. We breathe are beauty and our love, and so the world is made. – TS

My Questions To You

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What is your saving grace?
What pushes you to the darkest
places on a night of no stars, full,
instead, of the thicket of feverish dreams?
What grand and majestic hope has stayed
with you since you were a tiny little child?
What did you want to be when you
grew up, and is this still your fantasy?
 
I am your ear, your hand, your heart.
We can hide in the dark together, and
when we’re ready to emerge, we can
run and laugh catch the sun and sand
and build castles of what’s never been lost.
I implore: can we share the happy and sad,
our hesitant and bolder steps in this world,
all our inner magic, before it’s too late? – TS

The Space Between Us

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There is nothing more
I’d like on this cold and
clouded wintry morning,
than to sit in the warmth
that is only one of the
day’s many blessings,
and lay bare our
stories, through
our silence too,
hands wrapped around
mugs as we watch the
steam rise in the space
between us,
which is no space
at all, and grow
our hearts so big
that they can shelter
everyone in the
world who needs it. – TS