The Conductor

If you
crouched down
and focused your view,
pieces of me
were visible in
the distance.
Firmly clutched yet
completely invisible
to the carrier.

what happened when I shed the cloak my mother gave me

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.

a private grief

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.

rock me mama

Each hand on the other elbow. Heavy cotton, the only thing holding her in. Enshrouding her. She watched them go.

In Celebration of Dying Young

Death is all around us at the present moment. Covid is taking people we know, or it is feeding fears of our own death. For me, Will is a reminder that death can be a celebration, even when the circumstances argue otherwise.

Big Bearded Heart

We knew nothing of the slow growing cancer that was also with us. And your antics spoke of the discomfort of anniversaries, of not knowing how two people could dance in a celebratory space.

carry on

Maybe having my baggage checked isn’t about putting it away, but rather opening it up to take a look-see at who it is that I am sharing . . .

Beardo’s Day

Let’s bring death, to life.

Revolution MAID

So I am leaving my thesis until the end of this piece, and I am hoping that you are with me as I put forward the argument that MAID is at the forefront of a revolution in healthcare.

Still

What if . . . we hadn’t yet learned to trust movement. And now here we are.