The older I become, the more I trust the love that feels like peace.

I am entering July in jubilee.

I have learned to be scrupulous with my energy.

I protect my pleasure.
I protect my power.
I protect my pockets.

Greetings, Sekhmet,
lioness flame,
incandescent, formidable, holy.

I gave it to the warmth
on my skin,
to the sunflower lifting
her radiant face—-

The ones who dress envy in academic language and call it feedback.

There is something inviolable inside of you that must be protected.

As I enter June, I am entering with love, but not a love that forgets itself.

That is the awakening.

Let love come.
Let it be generous.

At poetic nights at sea,
the ocean became a cathedral around her.

But wisdom—real wisdom—
Often arrives quietly.

too many people
have suffered in rooms
where nobody wanted to speak plainly.

The best kind of love does not pull you out of yourself. It brings you home to yourself. It turns the ordinary into music.

Self-care is discernment.
Self-worth is knowing when to stay—and when to exit.

So I enter May with clarity.

I stand in nature
And it remembers my name.