Remembering

Yesterday I took it off the shelf in my bedroom from its place of honour. I sat on the floor holding it tenderly in my hands remembering the time I sat outside the city gates dirty and broken while you passed by gathering your skirts so nothing of you would come in contact with who...

Opportunities

Life presents us with opportunities to grow. Confronts us with our own places of fear sheds light on those things we keep in shadow wanting to give us the opportunity to cheer. To cheer ourselves beyond the limitations to move us out of our comfort zone to expose us to new situations all the while...

A Hunger for More

We have carried the pain of generations in our bones throughout our life the very blood, the most minuscule of particles that makes us this particular woman remembers all who went before us Too often we have pretended to be fine to please those around us to allow this world to think that everything is...

She Who Walks in Beauty

Something different for you today, dear Readers. A recording of my signature poem, "Walk in Beauty"    

Here’s the thing about social anxiety

So, here’s the thing about social anxiety. It bites you in the ass when you least expect it. At the end of a good day, you sit on the couch, or lay in bed, and you just want to die. Yeah, not because anything bad has happened, but because you’ve used up every ounce of...

In 2018, bring flowers

A friend posted this on Facebook today. I smiled, thinking, "yes, this is how it works."    

Remember Rumi in 2018

Make everything in you an ear, each atom of your being, and you will hear at every moment what the source is whispering to you . . . You are, we all are, the beloved of the beloved. And in every moment, in every event of your life, the beloved is whispering to you exactly...

Possibilities

Even people who "don't like poetry" seem to have a favourite poem. This is one of mine. It makes me smile and calls me to ponder my own preferences. I prefer movies. I prefer cats. I prefer the oaks along the Warta. I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky. I prefer myself liking people to myself loving...