I write from the root of the bloom.  In all the messy, tangled places of my soul.  In the darkness that catches fire and spreads to seek the light.  In solitude that sniffs the air for bits of oxygen called words.

I write from the root of the bloom.  In a place no one knows.  Or can see.  Like love until it’s set free.  Mine unto paper. Smoothly and frantically.  Quietly out loud.

I write from the root of the bloom.  Boldly.  In stillness and wonder.  Sadness searches for words.  Joy finds them.

And I am transformed once more.






4 thoughts on “THE ROOT OF THE BLOOM

  1. No words — just love this!

    1. Thanks so much dear friend! Hope all is well with you and yours. We’ll be Maryland bound soon and I look forward to seeing you! xo

  2. Just beautiful…and so wonderful to see you!! Blessitude ❤

    1. Thank you sweet Lorrie! Sending much blessitude back with fondness!

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