Hell came against you, somewhere on the way. It’s as if the sky has fallen on your head. Maybe it will knock some sense into everything, into you. The thing you’ve been saying now whips backwards. Your own words mocking you. Failing just one hour ago, they become ghosts that haunt. You know how how you did well? Done good for one whole blessed, single day and even two? You believe in resurrections but few...
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“We tell ourselves stories in order to live, to justify taking lives, even our own, by violence or by numbness and the failure to live; tell ourselves stories that save us and stories that are quicksand in which we thrash and the well in which we drown, stories of justification, of accursedness, of luck and star-crossed love, or version clad in the cynicism that is at times a very elegant garment.” The Faraway Nearby by...
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The sun sets and night creeps in like shadows laying down to sleep. In darkness came the anxiety, slamming into me like a freight train. Frozen in my closest near my pajama’s, I sucked in a large, gulping breath. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does happen, it is a doozy. Our art, our writing, our stories, our friendships, and being our authentic selves, will undo us. There are days, perhaps many, when we wish...
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We have been helplessly watching green blades race for the sky. And sitting on the patio above the lawn, is like having an audience of mystery. What is really lurking to the roots of this mess? There is much not seen, hidden away, like dark grassy knolls in my heart. But then, we also have babies. There are chicks and ducks, chirping with their feathers coming in. Then there are kittens so small, they think we are Momma....
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Life changes are happening here, ones of uncertainty and large commitments of time. I came to Texas more than six years ago to take care of my Granny. When she passed, I collapsed from exhaustion. I was thankful our family was able to be with her in her last days. We were able to pray over her, watch the 6 o’clock news, and guess the letters Vanna White hadn’t turned on Wheel of Fortune in the scary dark hours when Granny...
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Winter is shrugging its cold shoulders Each day a trial in change The flowery weeds are creeping up Announcing spring And you marvel yet again How a weed can have such beauty You have thought yourself much like one too Persistent, resilient, and wildly growing Where fertile grasses can not Go The wildflowers are soon to come The ones you pass by on interstate highways Coloring your route with blues and reds And people pulling...
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