Published inKnow Thyself, Heal ThyselfMy Father’s Empty Chair at ThanksgivingYour silence bruises the air4d ago934d ago93
Published inCatharsis ChroniclesGod Brushes the Lacquer of the Golden Hour Over Our Broken HeartsCan we put goodness and innocence back in our broken heartsNov 2525Nov 2525
Published inKnow Thyself, Heal ThyselfThe Lament of a Homeless ManMy silence will break into butterflies of praiseNov 2190Nov 2190
Published inKnow Thyself, Heal ThyselfThe Quiet Resignation of Dying TogetherA moment of silent intimacyNov 1531Nov 1531
Published inCatharsis ChroniclesThe Terrible Cure For DepressionAll I need is for you to listenNov 1537Nov 1537
Published inKnow Thyself, Heal ThyselfSaved by Small KindnessesI listened to my wife’s fluttering heartNov 1241Nov 1241
Published inWrite Under the MoonThe Song and Lament of an Alley CatMy survival depends on a pair of worn and tattered boots without lacesNov 1117Nov 1117
Published inSoul BayDepression: Living in the Darkest Part of Our HumanityI finally believed what I had always known — I was aloneNov 937Nov 937
Published inCatharsis ChroniclesThe Nightmare of a Broken MarriageWe sit side-by-side like two nameless statuesNov 6102Nov 6102