The rower’s strokes
The oars gliding flawless in the water
The geese fretting anxiously with my presence
I stand quiet and still, holding my cell phone
Aware they may suddenly fly
Each of us thinking different thoughts, writing our stories
The immensity of finding the first line
Like waiting for fresh saplings after a forest fire
Extracts and tiny nuggets from a voyage
Deep into a mine
With unrehearsed synchronicity we all move
Each in our own ways resume our tasks.


To face a charging bull
I have to be a fearless girl
First step.

I have to think fast
For the second step and the third.
It’s not a dress rehearsal.

Intuition is a fugitive
Stands in front of beauty and terror
Life, in-between.

I surrender
Faith in myself
to God.