i like that.

Posted on June 14, 2018June 12, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

Perhaps there’s nothing to worry for

anymore.

perhaps if i simply state my desire

say thank you,

cry

then stand up and

walk to it,

that’d be sufficient.

yes.

i like that.

maybe

if i keep my imagination

connected

to my prayer

i wouldn’t have to hope for

fulfillment.

yes.

i like that.

Michelle Bernard speaks: another one, a poem and much more from Michelle Bernard on Vimeo.

art.

Posted on June 4, 2018June 3, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

I am an artist.

Create your art, and name yourself: artist.

Live

all over your canvases, notebooks, iPads, laptops, journals, microphones, and pottery wheels without restraint or fear that someone might question your validity.

You don’t need permission if you have a pulse.

Because art belongs to our souls, not our egos.

Paint

Sculpt

Draw

Glue

Sew

Stitch

Hang

Blot

Sponge

Wipe

Drape

Roll

Braid

Layer

Dab

Carve

Sketch

Fill

Hammer

Solder

Pinch

Design

Color

Wrap

Roll

Photographf

Position

Frame

Mix

LOVE

DANCE

IMAGINE

Make art.

absolutely.

Posted on May 15, 2018May 13, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

my folks wanted normal.

i got nods when i wore the beige suit (this happened Twice in all my 49 years).

i grew up around crossed fingers that I’d learn

hobby don’t make no money.

that would have to happen from magic.

so i went out into the wilderness and hunted degrees, certs, and validation– i even dry cleaned and starched a white collared shirt

i did very good to grow-up and be —not me

though wild chocked me with its vines squeezing for books to be birthed,

books to be purged from poetry + pain,

books to be rinsed from journals stashed in dusty cardboard boxes

but when i heard the whisper from the muse at the nape of my neck

i could, no more, deny

she said go be.

be like those explorers you spy , like James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Joyce Maynard, the ones who wore wide floppy felt hats covering one eye.

meet them and sip cappuccino til 3 then wine till your journals swell.

go on

be lifted up from your juliette balcony by the magical balloon filled with the air from your imagination and meaning.

both have the power to raise you up, even when it rains.

normal, at this point, is absolutely impossible.

the leader.

Posted on May 10, 2018May 9, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

beyond exhaustion

knees stiff from spinning

heels sore from the pace

lips tired of saying my lines

i found another breath in you

before flatlining into fear, a fate that could permanently end curiosity,

you pressed into my chest and gave me life again

revival.

hold my hand

pull me safely to the wings

away from the trip wire of resentment that runs

the world’s stage

i will let you

position me

set my wrist

turn my chin

place my feet

even though i prefer to lead when i dance

sometimes you have to follow.

what you need.

Posted on May 3, 2018May 3, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

your heart will be persistent

even if you leave it to wither in a shoe box

even if you flatten it and use it as a bookmark to save your place

even if you bury it in the garden between the bossy rows of peppermint

your heart will keep on trying to tell you

what you need to know

to be able to survive

to be able to go on

to rise

to be free.

when you are ready to listen

when you are ready to know

when you’re ready to let go

your heart will say to you

you’re the one that I want.

BE YOU.

Not expected.

Posted on April 26, 2018April 26, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

the mist can see me through my window.

I see it too. It cannot hide behind the glow from street lamps.

It was raining when the dogs woke up.

It’s still raining now.

this is certainly not the way I expected to experience the last days of April:

wrapped in two scarves, socks up my legs, and a fur-lined hat near the front door.

I wanted flowers out my window

and fresh air to blow into my apartment while I get ready for bed.

but

I do like the stillness of this night.

And I like how time hangs onto the mist

giving more evening

more slowdown

breath

and

less

in my mind

so I can see the beauty

in this foggy night

Michelle Bernard: not expected, a poem for the season from Michelle Bernard on Vimeo.

longer.

Posted on April 19, 2018April 18, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

i love ya

tomorrow

i wiggled into you

(you were worth the wait)

inhaling

through grateful hips

shoulders praising morning

i pointed these feet

east

toward Creation

while white strands caught my eyelashes

i increased the decision

taking longer strides

(trusting myself for

the 108th time)

letting what I felt

be felt

the air

and

sky

swallowed the noise

letting the sound of light play

from my body

making the days

longer

Michelle Bernard: longer – a poem from Michelle Bernard on Vimeo.

the women.

Posted on April 11, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

the women.

me.

explorer of dream.

smile

casting magic on those in her orbit.

knowing eyes

peeking out from pink and turquoise

feathers.

striped and barefoot and bejeweled.

sweaty, whirling hips.

painting the sky with patchouli hands.

and

me.

head tilted.

curious.

grey wool exterior, lined inside.

big eyes squinting. taming Questions.

determined for answers.

once prodded, bullied.

once,

forgot her name.

Determined.

close up, no injury.

underneath bronzed body armor—

dark, dried up, salty invalidation

chipping off.

give her little wings.

http://www.michellebernardspeaks.com

do you let it go?

Posted on March 26, 2018March 26, 2018 by sculptedbybernard

What to do…

when the person you thought you’d love forever

makes you sad, manipulates, cannot relate to your desire for growth?

How do you break-up with a best friend?

Do you?

Do you stay when you’ve grown in different directions?

Kids know how to find friends who align with them.

We need to do the same as adults.

You are not a bad person to want joy and alignment.

rise,

Michelle

http://www.michellebernardspeaks.com

fulfillment.

Posted on November 21, 2017November 19, 2017 by sculptedbybernard

I had a plan. It certainly didn’t include being single in my late forties. If I knew this future 10 years ago, I would have thrown a temper tantrum at the angels.

I am single. I’m 49. And I am happier today, yesterday, and the day before. I cannot remember feeling this free as a girl, as a woman, in every part of my life.

These days, being single does not feel like being alone. It used to, though. And I’d hunt down a soul just to patch the hole.

I feel finally complete as I continue to untame myself, to drop my guard, my masks, my potions.

I am giddy and wild again like a curious child playing with the toys in her chest.

I whisper sweet thanks to experience. And Spirit responds to this exchange.

The boys who once broke my heart, came to apologize when they became men. The threads that tied me to many hearts over many cities and hopes are slipping out of my hands. I bless each one as they float like balloons on a slow breeze.

This story of my completeness I wish to share with my sisters who cry out to be loved by another as a sign of life, and worth.

I wish to tell them:

First set your Self free. Let her thrive in realness.

I would tell her to listen to the opening note of the song you always wanted to sing. This tune will enliven you. Sing it.

I would tell her Wave Your Magic over miles of dreams and fears, and follow every hunch that brushes your cheek.

I would tell her love is an unwrapped present you carry with you all the time. It’s been with you during all those misshapen relationships and solo Friday night dinners.

Once you realize this, open it. Open your gift. It’s wild and untamed inside, made pure and rare, so don’t change it.

When you do–open it–you will have opened the love of your life.

You will have opened your full Self, and she’s exactly who you’ve been looking for all this time.