Arwork: Wandering, by Laura Di Franco

Wandering (a poem to inspire your fiercely alive whole self)

My mind wanders
in technicolor
flinging purpose around
in real dreams
feathers sprouting
from my fingertips
hair flaming desire
skies speaking silver slivers.

I tread
on spiral moons
gently resisting
the pull of my soul
sucking at my skin
with shivers
a shimmering moisturizer
waiting for my hand.

“Rub me deep,”
she says.
“I’m dry to the core,”
I hear.
Bird songs call my feet
further in
I’m within
and I’m out.

Aimless
free
centered
chaotic stars
piercing me
with deliberate points
“Pay attention”
she whispers.

I feel a tear
slide down the side
of my nose.
What if I can’t?
I wonder.
Wandering
hurts
sometimes.