She

The fan makes a soft circular sound, cooling the room.

I have a colorful wool blanket around my body. 

The sun shines through the door, onto the carpet with a glittering rainbow trail.

My skirt is wrinkled beneath me and my knotty hair is in a bun. 

I sip a ridiculous candy flavored bubbly water.

The room feels like making love midday. 

I slip in and out of my body. In and out of my mind. 

Sometimes, just hitting the perfect flow of letting life pour through me. 

My body is bursting with energy that is still figuring out where to go. 

My palms are lit up with life. I cup them together and feel it circulate. 

The chaos inside my system works its way out every moment my mind gets out of the way. 

There’s a desire to flow without thinking. 

To write without knowing. 

To do it all without analyzing. 

Don’t ask me why. 

That would be like asking the trees why they know.

The lion why she roars 

The air why it whispers. 

Or the water why it hums. 

• She

Written by Amanda Crocitto

Arizona, March 26