Sunday, May 19, 2019


The Universe told me.
That I was not like the others.
I knew that from a very young age.

So I followed that voice.
It lead me straight.
With lots of wrong turns.

So here I am.
With myself.
My soul in the mirror.

I see.
I know.
It just takes movement.

I try.
I fail.
And I fail again.

It wakes me up at night.
And I vow to change.
But I make the same decision.

Except that my kids see too.
They accelerate the process.
They force the vision of what should be.

And it is right.
They are smarter.
They know the way so much better than I.

So I listen.
I correct when necessary.
I am, in fact, their mother.

It is hard.
I let them down.
I don't mean to.

But I know things.
I know that no matter what,
My girls will know their way through me.

They will know
Because I knew before them.
I knew my kids were changers.

My girls will lead.
At least I hope they see that enough in themselves to do so.
Because they can.

That will broaden and elevate their own voices and thoughts.
I hope I encourage them to speak.
To ensure their voices aren't lost or neglected.

They will be so much better than me.
I was silent for so long.
But I'm not now.

They need to know who I am.
What I stand for.
And why I scream.

It. Is. ALL. For. Them.

That's what the universe was telling me.
I was too young to understand
Until I had children.

Until I had daughters...

Our rights should always be protected.
Our bodies should always be ours.
Our voices should always be heard.

And if you listen closely, they have always spoken clearly.
You just have to be "man" enough to not only hear them,
But respect them.

After all, we run with wolves.

Wednesday, March 27, 2019


I'm sad but I can't quite say why
The world is sad and I can give you a thousand reason for its tears. 
Water still flows smoothly over obstacles and flowers bloom through concrete.
Hearts still fall in love after being broken a hundred times.
I'm aware of things I choose to ignore.
There is a constant internal argument in my head that is neverending. 
It deflates me.
I need focus but there is a circus in my mind. 
Acts in every ring.
I don't want to look. 
I want to swim underwater, be weightless and quiet. 
But the weight on my shoulders is so heavy. 
I don't want to drown. 
The noise in my mind both reminds me that I am alive and keeps me from living.
The sun warms my face and the wind blows through my fingers. 
Why can't I feel them? 
Why can't I feel anything?

And that's just today...

Thursday, March 7, 2019

Nothing - Something that is Nonexistent

A spark, random, embering
Ignited an entire night sky
For years there was only light
It was spectacular, might, unyielding.
And it was light, ethereal, and melodious.

It was something.

If you reached to touch it
Both the breeze and flame would coil around your fingers
And settle into your mind
It affected you
Something came to rest inside, quietly and completely

Ah, but time, it has a way of extinguishing a flame
It’s slowness calms the breeze
It turns softness into concrete
And the ember no longer burns
Only ashes remain

As they disappear into the surrounding,
Something becomes nonexistent.


Sunday, January 20, 2019

My Heart ❤️

“I will read long books and the journals of dead writers. I will feel closer to them than I ever felt to people I used to know before I withdrew from the world. It will be sweet and cool this friendship of mine with dead poets, for I won’t have to touch them or answer their questions. They will talk to me and not expect me to answer. And I’ll get sleepy listening to their voices explain the mysteries to me. I’ll fall asleep with the book still in my fingers, and it will rain.”

Talk to Me Like the Rain and Let Me Listen, Tennessee Williams

Sunday, August 19, 2018


There is a voice always speaking
It says I'm never enough. 
That I will never be nor should I try. 
That I'm not worth being. 
But I am and I keep trying.

The battle is daily and I try to ignore the screams.
Yet they work their way in and deplete the roots I try so desperately to tend and grow within my psyche. 
I'm just one of those without a "green" thumb. 
The only things that seem to cultivate are poison weeds.

Some days it's an ocean with waves overtaking my breath,
Then it ebbs slowly.
Oh, that time is immeasurable, splendid. Even if for only a moment.
But those waves always return; sucking the breath right out of me, assuring me I will drown. 
Yet I don't.

Then there are those days where the breeze ruffles the flowers and grass as I lie in the sunshine within the scent of just being.
The leaves whisper stories of history past and all that is to be. 
I am content. I listen.

Then the clouds gather, the skies turn grey, and the rain begins. Oh so lovely rain. You cleanse me of the world we live in, even just for a moment.
It is worth every single drop on my skin and on our Earth.
Raindrops are themselves a rebirth of sorts.

I beg you to aid in cultivating my true roots. Water them with your strength and sustain them with your boundlessness.
There is only so much I can do.
And I'm weary, so very weary. 
Sprinkle me with your miracle.and allow me to thrive.

Monday, December 11, 2017

I Walk

See, here’s the thing. I just want you to hear me.
To understand that I’m a good person.
I have a voice worth hearing.
A woman who sees many things.
More importantly, a human who can understand well beyond common context.

I don't say that boastfully.
It is simply true.
I always have, even as a young child.
My heart developed words that my mind heard.
I have always listened.

I respect your opinion, your thoughts, your ways.
So why can’t you just accept me?
Why do I even have to ask?
Why do I even care?
Why should I?

I’m so tired of your (of everyone's)
inability to allow me to be me.
It's too much I suppose.
Don't be sad for me or assume I need sympathy.
Don't feel like you have to say something.

I’m not always happy; in fact, I’m usually struggling with something every single moment.
I have anxiety and depression.
It is diagnosed.
It can rear its ugly head and bring me tomy knees.
It’s really fucking cumbersome and I get tired.

I have so many moments I don’t share because none of you understand.
How can you explain something to others that they can’t see?
Cant even feel?
But I do, profoundly.
But I'm not the sad girl.

I want to shout. So loudly.
But no one wants to hear that do they?
I want state fervently every word that comes to mind.
Obviously, that shit doesn’t work.
I accept that.

I really just want to leave.
To be alone.
To take care of me because no one else can.
And to let nature surround me with loving warmth
even on the coldest days.

I know I make you uncomfortable.
I know you don’t know what to say.
I get it.
I understand, some things are just too much.
Maybe I am too much.

That’s why I feel alone.
You wouldn’t hold my hand anyway; you’re too timid.
So I walk alone.
As I guess I should.
I suppose that is what is meant for me.

I think I'm okay with that.
So...I Walk.
I walk.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Sad Girl

No one likes the sad girl. She lingers in the corners watching, listening, building castles in the air; it makes you uneasy so you do your best to ignore her. 
No one likes to hear her speak, for she speaks most often of the dark places in her mind. Those dark places are like mirrors and you are afraid of what you might see. Her eyes are like oceans - what lies beneath also lies within. She can see things hidden, she can hear the whispers of the waves, and she can feel what is suppressed. She is the storm.
No one likes to watch her move because her paths are uncharted, unfamiliar, and seemingly indefinite. Her fingers touch the leaves as she walks by, her hand catches the wind through the window. She stops to let the sun shine all of its warmth into her soul. She is the reason for your apprehension. She makes you still.
No one likes the sad girl, her tears and her words contain unfathomable weight. Too much for this world. Along her lines are stories, written by every second she has lived and ever will live. Every wrinkle a tale, every pore a memory, every hair a moment that has touched her. She is indescribable, yet she is tangible. She is not you.
No one wants to get too close. She is never really open though her heart is like a river - ever moving, unrestrained. To see inside, under the current, the clearness of her intentions.The white noise of her raging. To be near her is to burn. She is fire.
No one sings her song. The soft ancient melody that the world has hummed forever, it is hers. A song that changes and forever stays the same. The dark sky that is her, full of stars, most unseen.The moon her only light. She changes the tides and you still can't see.
No one likes the sad girl.
How would they know she is luminescent...

Somewhere Inside

  • I keep all of Sophie's drawings.
  • The cleaning bug doesn't usually bite me but when it does it is usually all out. I go overboard.
  • I love things that touch my heart.
  • I love a good heart wrenching book or movie.
  • I believe in fairy tales.
  • I wish I could let go of all of my insecurities and live completely free.
  • I feel like I get on people's nerves.
  • I want to be noticed but I don't like attention.
  • I have trouble sleeping - too many thoughts and fears.
  • Music makes my soul feel free.
  • I can be terribly stubborn.
  • I can be judgemental
  • Mountains make me happy.
  • I secretly wish I could afford to focus my energy on some type of art and my family, not a "job".
  • I often feel out of place or irrelevant.
  • I enjoy detail specific activities.
  • Sophie can make me the happiest person in the world and break my heart so completely - all in the same instant.
  • Chris can do the same thing.
  • I can read a day away.
  • Friendships are hard for me.
  • Philosophy intrigues me.
  • I love Willie Wonka.
  • I fear early death.
  • I wish my mother could be here.