that we were boundaried enough that we didn’t spill ourselves so far over,
suffocate each other’s sense of purpose, passion and peace. That we remained open
for our hearts to be reached, felt the shared beauty of vulnerability in both its pleasure and its pain.
That we communicated with truthful lips,
carried on breath
supported by our soul, so that we knew authenticity, and could have conversations that felt complete,
share our heartaches and our highest aims in order to remember we are not alone.
That sensation is what unites us.
I dreamt that we allowed our hearts to spill over enough
so that we could learn how to hold that transformative water
with the cup of our own two palms.
Facing skyward, heaven-sent hands to be used in unearthing ourselves from separation, isolation, subordination.
I dreamt that we too, like Cambodians, didn’t have a single word to try to encompass that landscape,
said of sadness, like they do,
“the water on my heart has fallen” so that people knew we could help
stand alongside each other, shoulder to shoulder, as we each and together rose back up.
Let Rumi’s “gradually growing wholeness” become our own,
flowing like the illumination of vibrant green ground cover,
arching and reaching and sprawling, unafraid to hug the earth, and to let it embrace us back.
I dreamt we allowed the world to see us in all of our painted colors.
That loneliness was an old friend-small letters,
one word, passing feelings
that reminded us everything inside was working correctly. It was the dawn breaking us open every day,
showing us again and again, by moving down through our cells and flowing up into our Souls
that our Selves deserve care.
I dreamt that just through listening, understanding became freedom,
the space for us to apprentice the lilacs, their unapologetic vibrant tang of purple
illuminating our own irises.
The river cast its reflection up onto the tree’s leaves, and the whispering reverberation of the current
that letting go wasn’t the same as giving up.
all over again,
catching back up with our own slow moving, still paced momentum.