SELF

Dancin’ to my own Vibrations

The air was sour, bitter and frigid.  It was brittle, broken with ease,  It’s sharp edges carving down my spine, making me ridged.  But my exhale, warm and sweet,  Nectar from my lips persuading what was ice to be liquid,  Insisting space for my energy  To be malleable and translucent                                                                                                                                                                              ~Meg Waddington

The air was sour, bitter and frigid.

It was brittle, broken with ease,

It’s sharp edges carving down my spine, making me ridged.

But my exhale, warm and sweet,

Nectar from my lips persuading what was ice to be liquid,

Insisting space for my energy

To be malleable and translucent

~Meg Waddington