Core

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Hold the center
it’s exquisite and tender
a bouquet that flickers with molten heat
Grow the center
solidify it in your hands when need calls
let it slip through grasping fingers that aren’t your own
Wield it with intention
hands calloused, adrenaline humming
the comfort of sleep
a distant murmuring river
The center is buoyant air
upon which fervent pulse thrums
through kitchens and thresholds and out of back windows
and you can feel the earthly potential of that which glitters so bright and sharp
that you no longer want to contain it
you are going to embody it
That’s the center
That’s the power of lovely rage