Press — Published Works

She taught me Kyrgyz bedtime prayer

and culinary magic,

Hoping her hands

will trace the muscle memory

she tried to instill,

of kneading dough

and steaming rice in plov.

The sacred chakra number 4,

Whose rhythm is powered by prayers galore.

It dances and beats to the pace of vitality

Creating a force of electric reality.

Unlike its commanding neighbor — the brain — 16 inches apart,

Its deadly precision earns its name — the heart.

But the real magic of the coeur we hold dear, is the compass it holds within us so clear.

when was the last time you allowed yourself

to see and be seen

peeling the layers of protection one by one

exposing the scars you held onto so deeply within

until the scar tissue formed was ready to be shunned

to see into me, is to be seen — and the fear of being seen is the price of this level of intimacy.