A quiet collection of reflections on healing, becoming, and return
The Poetry
Before the Sun Rises
Before the sun even thinks About kissing the sky I rise. The world is still dark A quiet chill sitting heavy in the air. And my alarm buzzes like...
Before the Sun Rises
Before the sun even thinks About kissing the sky I rise. The world is still dark A quiet chill sitting heavy in the air. And my alarm buzzes like...
Some Goodbyes
My stomach twists itself into tight little prayers. My palms damp with the weight of what I can’t say out loud. Another funeral. Another goodbye I never asked to...
Some Goodbyes
My stomach twists itself into tight little prayers. My palms damp with the weight of what I can’t say out loud. Another funeral. Another goodbye I never asked to...
Ordinarily Comfortable
I wish my hands knew magic The kind that twists coils into crowns Lays edges with a whisper Paints nails like tiny stained glass windows Catching the sun I wish...
Ordinarily Comfortable
I wish my hands knew magic The kind that twists coils into crowns Lays edges with a whisper Paints nails like tiny stained glass windows Catching the sun I wish...
Soft Eyes, Strong Boundaries
It took me years To loosen my grip On the stories I wrote in my mind All the love I imagined All the people I dressed in grace Because I...
Soft Eyes, Strong Boundaries
It took me years To loosen my grip On the stories I wrote in my mind All the love I imagined All the people I dressed in grace Because I...
Swallowed Sadness
I have swallowed my sadness whole Pushed my grief so far down It sits like a stone In the quiet corners of my spirit I have learned to hide...
Swallowed Sadness
I have swallowed my sadness whole Pushed my grief so far down It sits like a stone In the quiet corners of my spirit I have learned to hide...
Tired Creation
My energy is thin today Barely stretching across the hours My creativity feels like a room Where the lights flicker Where my pen drags its feet And every sentence...
Tired Creation
My energy is thin today Barely stretching across the hours My creativity feels like a room Where the lights flicker Where my pen drags its feet And every sentence...