Honesty

On topsoil and in the bedrock of my being, 

I’m simply looking for permission

To exist without heavy edits 

Writing my story like the eroded hillsides, with all their splendor in gapes and raw crags.

Can you also 

Show me an unfinished draft?

Let’s write it out 

And write all over it. 

It will be your own work,

My own work; 

Iron sharpens iron as they say

And I am writing on plowshares

Or swords 

Or stones

A raw and rattled story of broken houses and mended hearts, 

Of twisted trunks and strengthened spines

Write with me of your own iron and clay

Don’t condemn yourself to the polished stones only, share the jagged rocks without gems inside

I will provide a quiet moment,

Bearing witness to

The honest you

Native and weather washed-

No edits required.