under the sun
is where her flowers bloom,
under the moon
is where her fires burn,
out in the wild
is where her spirit breathes…
she’s meant to be wild,
so beautifully wild.
– butterflies rising
Read More →under the sun
is where her flowers bloom,
under the moon
is where her fires burn,
out in the wild
is where her spirit breathes…
she’s meant to be wild,
so beautifully wild.
– butterflies rising
Read More →she wanders
out in the flowers,
in the wild, where the breathing
is easy and free… because it’s where
the judgment goes quiet…
and everything beautiful is so untouched.
it’s just beautiful. and wild. and fearless.
and whether it grows into something more
or burns down and has to start again,
it just does… fearlessly.
beautifully. and wild.
so she wanders out where she
can learn to see herself that way;
to see herself in the way that she looks
at flowers… like she’s a beautiful
wildness on fire.
– butterflies rising
Read More →there is too much good in you
for you to not let goodness be who
and what you are…
and there is too. much. beautiful in you
for you to not let beautiful be who
and what you are…
and there is too much fire and passion
and magic and art and love in you
for you to not let it all be who
and what you are.
– butterflies rising
Read More →she’s butterfly-wild,
chasing all those inner fires,
her restless spirit
aching for something beautiful,
reaching for something more,
so flower-sweet and fire-wild,
she’s got all those big dreams inside of her,
taking hold and trying to stretch her,
trying to grow her,
her wandering spirit
aching to find its way to open-air,
searching for something golden
and sun-kissed,
reaching for so. much. more.
craving an untamed freedom
that tastes like pulse and heartbeat
and deep breath and wild skin.
and she feels it all. and she will find it.
because she’s meant for it…
she’s got all that wildflower energy
in her veins.
– butterflies rising
Read More →she’s butterfly-wild, chasing all those inner fires,
her restless spirit aching for something beautiful,
reaching for something more
– butterflies rising
Read More →i didn’t know it
for most of my growing up…
but my mama had dreams.
dreams that weren’t of ring shapes and dress colors.
she had dreams that were drenched in art
and tasted like adventure…
ones that felt like being kissed
until her heart burst…
ones that opened up her whole soul
like a wildflower on fire.
but i didn’t know it.
i didn’t know it because she tucked them away
in pretty memory boxes
and hid them in tattered journals that
she pushed aside for perfectly-scripted scrapbooks,
and she buried all her burning desires under
yes ma’ams and sunday dresses
and sweet, supportive smiles,
while any part of her that ever maybe might
could’ve known that she mattered…
by herself, for herself,
and belonging. to. herself.
suffocated quietly under the white noise
of all those voices that had told her that
all that really mattered
was that she had been chosen… by him.
and when i started to see that inside of her
was a whole other woman that she ached to be…
i knew i couldn’t go through my life aching for the me
i’d never be, in that same way.
so all i’ve ever wanted… is to know that i matter.
by myself. for myself. and belonging to myself.
chosen by no one, but me.
– butterflies rising
Read More →she’s a flower
out in the wilderness…
touched by moonlight
and free in the open air
and wild sun
– butterflies rising
Read More →in the way a
flower out in the wilderness is beautiful,
touched by nothing but open air
and wild sun…
i hope you know… you matter now.
chosen by no one.
belonging to yourself.
– butterflies rising
Read More →