by Sarah Shepley
Passion drives me, I am her passenger.
She is the elixir that quenches my thirst
But I always return, thirsty.
Passion, the root of compassion,
sister to enthusiasm.
En-theos, God coursing through my veins
Imploring me to give form to her desire,
this becomes my desire.
Our desire- to know and be known.
I am thirsty again.
Passion she is the medium through which
the beloved calls me.
She shows me what I long for.
I feel her pulse in me like the
throbbing neck of the tree frogs
peeping at night.
Invoking the call to mate.
They are being breathed
by life’s longing to be heard.
What is my longing?
Sometimes the cry is so deep,
buried under lifetimes of unlived stories, disappointments, grief-
I have inherited them all.
I cry out, like the tree frogs,
to be heard.
The urge to matter.
To be remembered
to leave a footprint, a memory in someone’s heart.
A lingering goodness somewhere,
I want to empty out all their stories
Dissolve and metabolize
Enthusiasm and passion
They fill my blood
With the goodness somewhere.
Passion, she is the good blood, the true blood.
I am her passenger and I am and as long as she drives, I’ll drink.
by Linda Sanchez
The shell has cracked
My mind is new and vulnerable
Everything I know no longer fits
Shards of my past self are shaken up
I am born again
I dream of my new and brighter future
I can see the truth
The world sounds clearer
My soul comes home
I am free to live again
Hope spills forth
Making new friends with the old
I drink the elixir of happiness
Laughter fills the air
It is time to dance again