Humanity

  • Fathers

    It started with the Fathers of the Fathers. Each ache, each man left broken by the one who came before him: not his fault, that pain, continued. But an unwanted gift, often unseen, too often delivered. It must now be… Continue reading

  • Alone

    It is raining, and I am alone. And there is sorrow in these parts, and knowing that life is terrible and beautiful, all at the same time. I am alive with all of that. I am alive with the sorrow… Continue reading

  • The Quiet

    The quiet has come upon me, and so I have to write. It’s a strange quiet, a wonderful one, however mixed with a soft melancholy. It’s been with me, on and off, for as long as I can remember, and… Continue reading

  • They Know Not What They Do

    Why, when the road is so beautiful, (dappled sun on white) do these lashing tongues slice my delicate sky, so? I shall find a cave, as promised. A dear and perfect home to soothe. And I shall cherish the broken,… Continue reading

  • Careless Life

    Do not touch this softness. I see you angrily tearing at her bones, leave her be. Dear sweet, peaceful girl. For she must rest, she is weary, must rest, she has been battered and bruised by the tentacles of careless,… Continue reading

  • Self Forgiveness

    They abused their horses; yelled at them, hit them, spat daggers of anger at them, daily. I was the thirteen year old victim of school bullying at the time, so I smiled when the abusers smiled and I laughed when… Continue reading

  • The Art of Living Carefully and Beautifully

    I made the beds as if it might be the last time. I didn’t think, ‘Oh. Gosh. You know, I better take more care in making these beds, I might be gone by tomorrow morning.’ It wasn’t like that. I… Continue reading

  • The Rose

    Even the most darling rose is a work in progress. Be the rose. How beautiful that she will show you the way to freedom. Continue reading

  • Sweet Love Departed

    When there is, in this soft heart, a tear for sweet love departed, a tender wave of grief upon the shore; where do these small hands go? How do I hold and kiss and whisper each precious ache into wholeness,… Continue reading

  • Beautiful Tears

    In the shadow of love is the aching of fear. And I hold you, love. I hold you and your beautiful tears. Continue reading