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  • Family

    I was planning on writing something from the heart. Something deep. Something that said something, about something important. But then the most important thing curled up on my shoulder in the form of a nine year old girl, and all… Continue reading

  • The Journey to Self: Discovering What Home Means

    I tried to say goodbye. To start something new, in a place just a little different to here. I tried on new words, I tried to place myself in a box, neat and tidy with a bow. But each time… Continue reading

  • Beautiful

    It is beautiful in here. So beautiful in my little room, orange lit and warm. Home, a precious space of safety. It is this perfection that slows life down. A perfection that has my eyes slowly moving from cushions laid… Continue reading

  • Deep Ones

    I choose this kind love. These stars in the trees beyond the river’s glowing fog. This heaven that slips through the layers of my humanity. Life is precious to the whispering deep ones. Continue reading

  • Let It Become

    It is a softness that wanders the fields with me. Everywhere I go, it is there, sending me off on my uncertain way. Sometimes, I feel like a small bird, left to battle the raging storms of life. I do… Continue reading

  • Heavy

    I am a child of the wind. My bare skin knows the beauty of this life, and yet, within these soft walls, I am bare. How heavy it is to hold this uncertain hand of mine. Sometimes. Continue reading

  • Remembrance

    There she was. She had always been there beneath the rubble of crumbling life. How sweetly the sun did shine upon her remembrance. Continue reading

  • Chamomile

    The word sipping is very pretty, isn’t it? Delicate, like the action it shows. I can see a small pair of hands, a little tea cup beside a little light. And I know it is home. I know it is… Continue reading

  • Golden Light

    She holds my hand and walks me home while rabid dogs do lie, she takes each ache, and wraps them dear though fear, old foe, won’t die. Her seeds of goodness, daily, sprout she guides my heart by day, the… Continue reading

  • The Soft Things

    The quiet is here and so am I. I will life to slow down, I ache for it; I am not made for speed. I am made for the whisper of the trees, for the silver trail of snails on… Continue reading