Of Joan

Our greatest works
live in the stories we share.
We are an evolving work;
living novels, art of flesh.
We carry volumes of past to present,
of joy & grief
—a colossal library in our ribcage.

Maybe that’s where all that weight comes from.

In a single crow feather,
you realize
maybe god actually had it right this whole time.

When your bosom was molded,
it was made a sonnet,
a love poem from mother & earth.
It’s time to sing our stories
like birds excited for the first buds of spring.
We’ve all been waiting for you.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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