Sometimes I see forever before knowing if I can make it. Sometimes life falls apart like clumps of dirt held tightly in my hands. Will I be scattered on the wind this time, like the spokes of a wishflower? The force of air and spit from a mouth thrusting me into the unknown? Or will … Continue reading Molting
Welcome to The Flipside, to The Upside Down. Here, everything is as it should be. Here, we live inside dark clouds. There is no sun in here, no days full of light. Here the shadows are more than echoes of a past we try to fight. Here there is no floor firm under your feet. … Continue reading The Upside Down
I am wearing your clothes today, Mother, my heart. Your earthy-tones with purple hues surround me. Your textiles embrace me with their softness as if they are striving to be your arms. I have given many of your clothes away to the worthy: to the ones who saw you for what you really were – … Continue reading Dusk with Stars and Missing the Sun
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
I haven't written or shared Spoken Word poetry in a very long time, but felt utterly compelled to do so yesterday as way to deal with my own feelings about the current tragedy of the Camp Fire effecting so many Californians right now, including my own family who lost everything. I wasn't sure it was … Continue reading Fire-breathing (spoken word)
Friends always say, "Of course!" when they promise to keep in touch, keep the friendship alive, when a new mate is found. But I know you. Your hunger is so big, you struggle often to be anything else, and it's hard to think when you're starving. I know starving. Her name is Diana, you said. … Continue reading A Blessing for The Hunters
Sometimes the jolts of pain in my guts feel like flashes of dying. Mortality and I are very close. I won't say we're friends but we respect each other. We know the power each of us has and the potential cost of playing. Lightning bolts in my capillaries and thunder in my soft tissues; A … Continue reading Dear Doulas
Life goes on, and your memory lives in hidden moments that catch me when I'm not looking and tug at the heart you helped make bigger. The brazen, ruthless grief is undeniable. But the subtle times and the little things; those are the places where my feet stumble. I am glad to stumble, though, because … Continue reading For She Who Taught Me Love
