How To Make, Break & Keep Yourself Whole
BY SHANNON CROSSMAN I unknit all the loops. Am a mountain of yarn piled on the floor. What was once shaped and formed…
BY SHANNON CROSSMAN I unknit all the loops. Am a mountain of yarn piled on the floor. What was once shaped and formed…
I teach her how to speak moonlight. Allow her to hear stories born on currents of wind across the immensity of time. Show her small secret doors that transport her to places she could not even dream up.
My family was nuclear. Explosive. Home mutated, the first and longest lasting casualty of our domestic catastrophes.
Stability is a thing I have chased my whole life. Fell face first into the sinkhole of security. An elusive horse upon which no rider can remain seated.
Love comes wearing many guises. Not all of them are pretty. In fact, many of them are not. Because love is forever calling out to us, “Can you see me? Are you willing to know me when I am disheveled and unkempt?
Love, the slippers you shelter my feet inside as I wander your path. Ease patterns every garment you drape upon my body. Fear, you beat back with bamboo and spiky bramble.
When you succumb to that which you most desire, what crawls up from the depths of your belly and dares to cross the threshold of your lips?
I once spent many moons trapped in a nightmare from which I could not wake. Thrashing through life, fuelled by resistance. Primed for flight.
What a Divine plan this, to thread light and shadow so closely together that we cannot rent them
one from the other…
Love is not for sissies… She holds no punches in the arena. You will be pummeled. And oh, you will be adored too. Caressed to the point of aching.