folkmania, it's freaky ya'll

⧋//memories: movement\\⧋

the balance of life: remembering the past, but not dwelling.  moving forward, but not forgetting.

it's a year later and here I am, in Denver, remembering my previous post in what now feels like my previous life.  sometimes, we leave our old self behind, quietly, in the cover of night.  that's how this last move was for me, so afraid to misstep, misread, mistake the new start and destroy the chance to move forward instead of standing, wavering in the the current whooshing beside me.

what I miss about the south:

I miss the scent of damp earth and fertile soil
I miss the same paths, worn clear by my tread
finding the rural in betweens, the overgrown alleys, the quiet solitude of the country in the city.
I miss finding my magic, losing it, and finding it again.
the first balmy night of summer and the heavy stagnate air thick with white bloom.

the south is where I found myself.
the south is where I discovered all the never fully known wildness of land.

but I was never a full fledge southerner, always looking at the sunset and remembering who I am.  never fully reconciling who I was with where I am and where I'm from.

::westward visions::

what I longed for:
the dry, arid warmth of the sun.
hot days, cold nights.
ancestral connections to land.
the harsh rise and peaks of mountains.
the ease of living in the city.
the clear, relentless light of the sun without the oppressive weight of wet blanket air.

transformation is such a harsh, painful mistress.  but I never feel quite as grand as when I'm struggling agains the current of who I was and who I will be.

my heart dresses in black and dances