Lessons in letting go

"Learn to close softly. The doors of rooms you will not be coming back to." Donald Justice Everything I have ever had to let go of has claw marks on it. I fought. I clung. I held on until my knuckles broke. Until I was destroyed with trying. A boxer after a knockout. On my … Continue reading Lessons in letting go

Ecological Grief

My grief is on fire todayand so is the mountain.The air is thick.It burns my throat.I inhale. I choke.Sirens wail behind the smoke,rotor blades pierce through the density.The surfaces of my apartment,of my heart,are covered in ash.The remains of Mother Naturefall softly to the groundunperturbed by the chaos surrounding.As if to say,“Continue your destruction,and I … Continue reading Ecological Grief

Dawn is still breaking

I realized something this morning. Dawn is a slow dance. A gentle thing. Measured. And just because we cannot immediately see the sun, dawn is still breaking. Even as the first light of day banishes the darkest of night, dawn is still breaking. Before we can feel the warmth of morning, dawn is still breaking. … Continue reading Dawn is still breaking

Thoughts on thoughts

My thought are always on. Always moving. Sometimes racing. Sometimes ambling. But always moving. They wander off into the past, taking left and right turns, one after the other. They stray down dark corridors. They open doors they shouldn't. Doors that say 'Do not disturb!' They find secret rooms and hidden tunnels. They go deeper … Continue reading Thoughts on thoughts

Made thin.

He is so thin, I think. Emaciated, I write. But what does that mean? "Skeletal" "Gaunt" "Shrunken" "Shrivelled". "Emaciare" is the Latin: "Made thin" I think it means if you don't look close enough you might not see him. You might not see beyond his disease. HIV, TB, malnutrition, starvation, poverty, oppression, suffering. Hopelessness. An … Continue reading Made thin.

Who I Am: A poem

I am slowly remembering who I am; That there is more to me than pain and heartbreak. I am twenty-nine years worth of memories and adventures, Of ideas and dreams and stories. I am a soft pink sunrise and a burning orange sunset. All at once. I am an ice cold mountain lake and a … Continue reading Who I Am: A poem