Writing on Easter, I can reopen, rebirth my intentions to write.
I can do whatever I want.
I am reborn like these flowers I painted.
I can eat chocolate and listen to Mahler and lay around rejoicing and loving all that arises.
The flowering of all these years, all these Easters.
All the easters of candy and pretty dresses and family dinners.
The echoes I feel of these people who have loved me; the men I've loved and been my true self with; my sisters in life; the people who built this city and this country; all my ancestors who lived and died for me: thank you. Thinking of my grandpa Westadt especially today, but thank you to all of you.
May I be a bright and vibrant living thing and may my seeds ripen to their highest potential, to honor you.