Blooming Crazy
May 12, 2025
I grew up near a mountain range—
The Crazy Woman Mountains.
Her peaks are wild.
Her slopes, untamed.
Stone giants stand watch
Along trails that vanish into sky,
where the earth can take your footing.
But to me, she feels like home.
Wild. Crazy. Loving. Mountain.
Spring spills herself in bloom—
Purples, whites, yellows, and pinks.
Trees summon wind
to kiss my cheek like kin.
Here, I am never too much.
Here, feeling everything is just right.
Here, I offer healing back to the earth—
and she meets me in balance and ease.
But the Mother wants more.
There is still healing to be done.
I am like the wild rose—
Soft blooms. Sharp thorns. Roots that run deep.
I grow wherever I am called,
Bringing beauty across the north.
Comfort is not my purpose.
Wild, crazy women
are not designed for rest.
The winds have started to call—
It is nearly time
to bloom.
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