pardis
Baby, we create our own heaven on earth.
What does living beyond what they told us look like?
What does loving beyond what we saw feel like?
How can we be free together?
Our love is political
a revolutionary act
of trust
of risk
of faith
Wear your heart on your sleeve
so mine doesn’t get lonely out here
it’s cold
Tell me your truth
I’ll return it with mine
Lead with your hidden parts
our fears can walk it out together
Matching tattoos
Slow dances in the kitchen
Spinning the globe asking:
where should we adventure next?
Babies faces full of birthday cake
Sliding under the covers hoping everyone sleeps through the night
Dinner tables so loud we wouldn’t want it any other way
Four wheels on muddy trails
Snowed in afternoons piled on the couch
Cotton candy fingers at the country fair
Roadside diners
Northern lights
Coastal drives
Licking your sweat from a night of perreando
Wiping your tears after a hard day
Handwritten letters
Mixtapes
The old ways aren’t going to get us there
Make love to the ordinary
Breath life into the extraordinary
Co-create a life we don’t want to run away from
My eyes don’t wander
My hands don’t get confused where their home is
Dream your most audacious dreams,
I’ll say:
let’s go.
Be my roots,
trust my flight.
The seeds we plant
make our pardis.
the spoken word
I conceive these pieces with the beat of my heart,
then birth them with the fire of my voice.
i am ayla
born in the east, raised in the west
daughter of two academics, both artists
masters in human rights, committed to social justice
love affair with travel, art, and food
speaks four languages, laughs in all