I let the words die on my finger tips for days, weeks, months, years; failed attempts to staunch the bleeding, to curb the sentences and story lines that ripped through my skin in the small hours of early morning wounds opened, reopened until I no longer recognized the person staring back at me from the…

I am the silence in between The torn sky after the storm Clouds and sunshine peeking through I am the calling after a hundred years Wandering in the mountain folds Where earth bleeds to grow wildflowers I am the mother Guarding wings until they are dried From the tears of living Flight comes in that…

laying hedge against the wind carefully bend me to weave through branches living wall gather rain and butterfly wings I cannot think of anything else I need more ~ April 2015

without a word I could leave fade into shadows at the end of another day much like others have done but I won’t I won’t knowing the pain silence causes the ache disappearing turns and the waiting breaking of it leaves a scar that never heals indifference a poison slowly killing me no. take your…

  rumours of spring play along the branches and garden edges birds wrestle with the cool morning mist and I slowly make my way to the end of the driveway sunlight does not reach here until rising still above rooftops and trees I will be gone before the first ray hits leaving only an empty…

  eight cups of coffee measure the day lined up on the table among the newspapers and magazine clippings i sat endlessly flipping between sips not sure what I was looking for except to find maniacal comfort in the glossy pages and frankenstein faces plastered there and then the ripping – pages torn out for…

IV In small things We all begin The seed To the tree The grain of sand To the boulder The drop of rain To the ocean In small things We all continue From tree to seed From boulder to sand From ocean to droplet Where you begin I begin A breath between Here and now…