Poetry

  • Sleep

    Oh, weary soul. I barely see you behind those tired eyes. Let us rest, deeply, beautifully, with compassion for all life has given, harshly. It is a darling life. A life to be cherished with each breath of our aching… Continue reading

  • Wildflowers

    I must remind myself: the wildflowers will wait. Continue reading

  • Sensible

    Shall I be sensible a moment? Oh, dying to live, dear dreary day. Let you find me twisted beautifully among the berry vines. Let you be the one to be sensible. Continue reading

  • Lonely

    But I am the wind. And my soul is alone as it blows through the jars of neat and tidy life. Oh, the aching. For, home floats free; I will never be bound. Can you not see? I will never… Continue reading

  • All My Softness

    I am home when the beautiful song of my heart is at peace. There is nothing loud, here, nothing beyond the birds and the rippling pools of shadow on brick. I am just me, in all of my softness. Me,… Continue reading

  • Happy One

    There is a tear in my soul. They want me to smile, all the time, they want me to be fine, this world. But I am not (though I am.) There is a weeping tear. A wound unhealed and breaking… Continue reading

  • 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

  • Feathers

    She fled her body, to where the poets fly. Her heart lived in that place, an angel by night light. There were feathers on the wind of day, and music, like a lovers kiss, drifting. Oh, how she loved, there.… Continue reading

  • The Orchard

    As I sit quietly, alone, with the birds as my friends, I watch the orchard sway with the breeze and I ask myself: Is it the orchard, alone, I see? Or has the orchard become the miraculous creation of the… 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