i cannot compete with a ghost her hold upon your heart– gut wrenchingly precise. keeping you folded– a neatly stacked pile of protection, save those tiny glimpses of trust. Nor can i measure against a sweet babe, her newness and discovery perfectly prescribed for your carefully crafted vision of lonely. My arms cannot extend past …
a poem of sorts in that my hand is listening to brain unfurrowing my brow in allowance, an unleashing. i ate poems for breakfast when i was young– crammed them down my throat voraciously– bathed amongst them– allowing their words to drip from my body to dry. i dabbled in love and heartbreak at a …
We are helping to heal each other you and i traversing this stretch of time, an unwieldy highway, hand in hand. Watching the layers peel away feeling lighter with each small forward step increasingly aware of the young boy peering out from underneath the years of practiced pain– contained because you knew no other way. …
my first born baby you always will be the one who ushered me into this space a clearer, confident identity able to move through the world and keep pace with those who previously hadn’t seen the shy and shrinking girl, now carrying your dynamic beauty along with me the brightness of your eyes and smile …
your blue and green eyes with a dot of gold keenly aware of worlds beyond your grasp conquering fears too large for you to hold protection from them you dare not need ask a simple beauty bound by innocence and silly, wiggly, sparkling energy leaves not a single person on the fence their feelings for …
I never read the rules for mothering it seems I was absent that day perhaps all of us were. Carrying around the textbook burden of guilt, the weight of which mocks our shortcomings and reveals the all-too constant truth that we’re just winging it. Each new day, another brave face– scooping up the pieces …
a simple narrative unwilling to wind its way from my head to hand as i ruminate over the lifetime in days counted across this brief span of time in which my mind was willing to release held constructs– massive monuments to memory carefully created and tended through years, in quiet rooms hidden in attics and …
a word of thanks, my gift to you whose foresight, exuding intuition masked beneath the cowardice of rationality– moved worlds beyond my will. Into an unknown certainty and the birth of a new and much more capable understanding of love. The recognition of giving and receiving in equal measure– a concept heretofore unknown by my …
the edges of myself 