What if . . . we hadn’t yet learned to trust movement. And now here we are.Read More Still
“You are likely depressed,” said the professional. I laugh at myself. Leaping over boundaries like always, I thought I was just tired.Read More to birth is to release
And then like a pool cue, his inner child propelled mine forward with a slow roll and a pocket.Read More armadillo
We don’t talk about how relationships never end …. it feels … like reaching through air.Read More Death
“You realize we are sisters again, now that we are free.”
“Yes,” she said.Read More star born
I ground myself into the earth.
I love you. Your forehead; my lips. Your rings; my giving. Your lifeless body; my ring. My ring; your body leaving. My longing; your pinkie finger. My decision; topaz side by side. I love you.Read More Pinkie
The wound, the wound. You know that bearded man, the one who died? The one who died angry, who wrapped himself around me and I led him out? Well it’s been a year now and I’ve been angry (again). He never said good bye.Read More Narrative on a Wound
Grief and joy are opposites. Except that grieve is the preferable word because it is not static. And if you let it live all of its lives, joy is a word that whispers constantly. And softly.Read More (no) superhero
… and all those around you
stand as they will.