i like that.

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.

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.

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.
Michelle Bernard listening to her song

the leader.

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.
Michelle Bernard

what you need.

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.

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.

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
by
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.

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?

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