Hannah King
Inner Child
She cries,
and I cannot wipe her tears.
I kneel down, folding my body
upon the ground, face pressed
into pine and mullein,
palms flat on grass.
Salt water streams,
as my heart’s fire slows
its flame into a steadier burn.
We forget how loved we are.
The wind rushes through cedar boughs
and sweeps my cheek
as I raise my head, tears dry.
Acceptance rains,
the sky opens,
and the child’s eyes can see.
Her mouth speaks in tongues
as she lifts her body up,
soft in nakedness.
Walls tremble and fall.
A wild rose opens
in the spring sun.
Hannah King is an Oregon native, truth seeker and enthusiast for lyrical living. Her writings reflect the intimate bond man can have with the earth and the ever beckoning relationship between the spirit within all things. She is a flower farmer and naturalist, and finds home in her mountainous birthplace of Southern Oregon and the expansive Willamette Valley, with her husband and two children.