cara catalyst

Today I stood in the yard that will soon be mine. I stood in my future bedroom and touched the chandelier made out of solid glass orbs. This is the third warehouse in a row that I’ve had shut down. I must be cursed. Now I’m ready for a home. Walls and doors and windows that open up onto rose bushes. This home is further away than I would of ever expected to be when I first drove my little car from the city that I was born in. But I want family now. My new familia and I stand in our yard and awe at our future pear, fig and lemon trees. We fantasise about chickens out the back and we talk about affixing a basketball hoop to the garage. I’m working with the powers of manifestation here. This will be our place.

My hair has grown since the last time I slept here. Lately I’ve been reaching around my back and touching the end of those strands, tugging on them slightly and feeling the pull against my scalp. One of the first things that you say to me is that I’m a Warrior Poet. I haven’t written for so long. Even now my mind is wandering to the sun and the water and the earth. I’ve still been drawing portraits of my beautiful friends; boys who agree to marry me, and girls playing guitar. My spine shakes just thinking about it all. You have perfect timing.