Everything is exaggerated for Intuition.
She feels everything –
in every membrane of her skin
Even when her eyes are shut
She knows the face within
Intuition knows the sea from many miles away
Bundled in its changing tide
Breathing in with every sway
When the sun is low, she’s low,
When it’s up, she’s high
And in speaking she separates every truth
From every godforsaken lie
She knows many souls, Intuition
Not by status or by name
She knows them by their colour
And by the shadows of their shame
The disturbed ones have dark marker
Drawn round their face and arms
Seeping from the skin
Like black ink from fallen jars
Many walk upright in shades of grey,
In confines of pencil brush
With the world expecting greatness of them
And Intuition not expecting much.
The red figures, they move awfully fast –
A future summons anxious feet
And they forget to feel the world go past
Blinded by the world they want to meet
There are some; those who have hurt and healed,
And loved – and loved again
These are the bravest of all:
Healed women with their open hearts...
And open hearts of healed men
Like sunshine in technicolour hue
Sequins flapping at the seams
They glow with hopes of turquoise dreams
Holding in their bosoms hugs of indigo moons...
Quiet, powerful, Intuition
With a knowing of all the unseen spaces
Thank you. You taught me all there is to know
About warm people and warm places
Poem from, "From Dust" (book launching soon) Artwork by the talented Maggie Stephenson https://www.maggiestephenson.com/
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