meditations on love

october 12, 2025

may we all know a love
that uplifts us. 
love that understands that the seeds of our mothers' 
and grandmothers' freedoms have only just blossomed
in our lives.
love that understands that a woman in this body, in this life,
has spent reincarnations learning what love is not -
a small, cramped darkness. 
a tight, unyielding voice
that asks you to be like the mothers before you - 
small, wasting away, a dying light.
guardian of a lamppost that shines
for anyone but herself. 
may we all know a love so expansive that life itself
feels like light - 
like possibility, 
like horizons that we ourselves unfold.
may we never mistake familiarity for love.
or comfort for growth. 
there's a love that lets us fly,
and welcomes us home
into its warm, dark hut, 
upon whose earthen floor i'll find myself at the end of the day -
languid, secure, ever-trusting,
knowing that the hearth burns
whether or not a woman is always home.