Inner Peace

  • Peace

    Peace. It’s soft and it’s cool. It’s free and it’s flowing. And quiet. (Good heavens it’s quiet. I close my eyes for that one. Truly. I close my eyes.) Peace. It lives in the candle beside me; within this flame,… Continue reading

  • A Beautiful Mess

    This messy home, an incorrectness: something broken needing to be fixed. The wars we rage inside ourselves just to keep control, to maintain clean, to maintain ‘right.’ It is a mistake of the eyes and the heart not to see… Continue reading

  • She Would

    If she could hold the world with all her heart. If she could soften the growls of the wildest of them, she would. Oh, she would. Oh, she would. Continue reading

  • I See Me

    The soft girl whispers in my ear. I drift each cushion to the foot of the bed and carefully place it off to the side, as if it were made of precious, gold leaf. I peel back the doona; the… Continue reading

  • Sleep

    If sleep could touch my cheek, I would ask for her slender hand a thousand times. If sleep did fall upon me now, I dare not wake. No. I dare…not… Continue reading

  • Clear Air

    One day, she sits alone, and understands it all. That she’s never been alone. That all this time their pain has lived within her, pain she never asked for, pain that is not hers to bear. Clear air is what… Continue reading

  • My Own Peace

    Some days, I take a deep breath and ask the world to soften. The world never does soften. So I fall behind its wind, and I find my own peace. Continue reading

  • The Very Same Breath

    But surely you know the earth still breathes the very same breath. The very same breath. And surely you know we earthlings do breathe the very same breath. The very same breath. Continue reading

  • Beneath The Sad Moon

    What is this softness that takes my heart dancing beneath the sad moon? When aching life pours from the sky, and my heart cries to be heard for once without question. Will I listen? No. I will hear, but I… Continue reading

  • This Way, Life

    If not this moment, when? If not under this orange-grey sky, beneath these sweeping willows, fair, where? How do we taste the rain and know it is good if we do not open our mouths? The warm salty promise of… Continue reading