is for your people.
Now when she sees I seek alone
She comes to me, she asks
and focused your view,
pieces of me
were visible in
Firmly clutched yet
to the carrier.
. . . that my body has finally found a voice equal to my mind, and my heart is but their mediator.Read More Things I know . . .
As if picking up grief – in this case – was also picking up the mirror I kept trying to wipe clear, and turning it around . . . Pulling my shoulders back like a mother would tell a child that grew before the other kids, and boldly holding up my mirror like I could Say Anything.Read More Grief Love
are not hidden.
I put my fingers to my solar plexus and am not sure if it’s the flattening of hands I need or a boring inward. Who needs healing today.Read More what happened when I shed the cloak my mother gave me
For all of the little girls sitting in chairs.
Waiting for all of the little girls sitting on stoops.
This past week – in my dis-ease – I looked out the same window that Chris spent many a day gazing through, as his body broke down. I remembered his silence, his privacy. I converged with it a little further, as I too feared from within my body. And I too said nothing.Read More a private grief
Each hand on the other elbow. Heavy cotton, the only thing holding her in. Enshrouding her. She watched them go.Read More rock me mama