My mother taught me
the distinct smell before the rain,
the promise of cleansing.
Didn’t anyone warn you
I’m what natural disasters
are named after?
I am a river,
good luck controlling me
good luck slowing me down.
There isn’t an ounce of age
to my soul.

Michelle K., Aries in the Mornings. (via michellekpoems)
My great-great-grandchildren ask me, in dreams, ‘What did you do while the planet was plundered? What did you do when the Earth was unraveling? Surely you did something when the seasons started failing, as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying. Did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen? What did you do once you knew?’
Drew Dellinger
(via explosionsoflife)
And in the end we’re all just humans… drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via itsmicca)