your hands

Preface to writing
Upon leaving the port at Grand Canaria we engined a bit until it was safe to stop the engine. We then sailed smoothly until about 6:15 am when the wind dropped and Pierre decided it was a good time to start the engine. Flying monkeys if the engine did not start. He pulled apart the cover pieces and tore up the toilet room to discover that a piece of the engine was totally burned through. We had waited at the port a week making sure that all was in tip top shape to make such a long trip and in 10 minutes we fried the engine. 


Well fuck a doodle doo.


Now what you may ask? We’ve decided to sail to Cap Vert and fix the engine there. My Father is going to go back to Philadelphia and Pierre and I are not quite sure of what to do next. We are planning on birthing our son in Martinique. I am currently 32 weeks pregnant and feeling the need to nest and ground myself for his birth and yet I also feel the Call of this voyage and choix du vie that our family is living… what to do? Voici the little backstory to my words.






Your hands


I feel your little hands carving my insides, a place that was yours before time,
A place that will always be yours and yet one day soon you will be outside of me, yet our hearts will be ever intertwined, like the stars in the night sky…
One day you will need space from me, one day you will need to fly and be truly on your own,
But today my Beloved Son, today my inner temples, the seed of my heart will ever be connected to you.


I feel you move and I am in awe


Your strength; courage, flow; and beauty surround me
They encompass me, your tiny hands tickle my wounds, embrace my fears, and invite me in each moment to be more fully alive.


I am in awe of you…


Tonight on this most lonely of nights when your Papa is heartbroken and sick, your Poppy is confused and disappointed, your Momma feels empty and surprisingly calm; you my Son, you move, you danse in my womb and somehow I am not so afraid. 


I want to do what is best for you, I want you to be safe, I want your birth to be peaceful, grounded, calm… I want to welcome you to this grand earth in style, love, and stability… does stopping our trip here and me flying to Martinique make that vision more of a reality for your life beginning? 
Or does continuing with your Papa, on our sturdy yet electrically fucked little boat to reach your birth place jive with how your soul wants to come down in physical form?




My brave dancing Baby, already wind and magic breathed Boy, I ask for your help… what do you want us to do? What is best for you?




We have 6-7 days of sailing and listening ahead of us,
Please tell me clearly what you want.


I return to Mother Mary, she set off with her wild Joseph, on a donkey following a bright star at night.


No home, wandering nomads
Were they lunatics, crazed dreamers, or divinely tuned parents?


I imagine Joseph was as handsome, strong, and sometimes as broken as your Papa.
Carrying his wife, walking with her together, trying to follow their hearts, no maps, no directions, just following that damned twinkling star.


Star followers… following an oracle, birthing a new family, Mary carrying a new world in her womb




On this night of nights looking into the endless cosmos, seeing Orion on my left, feeling you tango in my womb, 
I know not what to do, but I feel You

You my Son, my little Star Follower