Grief Witness

She Calls

On the morning mist
I taste her summons
Salt tinges the air
Calling my name
She wants to talk
I am torn but comply
I start towards her Beach.

Below The Surface

Below the surface it is a hoarder’s den of things I do not say, and things I try to keep myself from feeling. I take those…

Marks Upon My Skin

Marks upon my skin, branded into my heart. The names of my parents written in fire upon my skin. This is a powerful magick…

tidy soul box

tidy soul box

all tucked away

Little Sharp Box

I wander the hallways of my memory
Peeping Tom to my own past
Afraid to go in any room
I prefer to watch from afar
If I watch too…

A Blessing for Grievers

May simplicity find you again
the ordinary things that seem so far gone

I Become Rain

The steady rain soothes me
Not too much, not too little
Just the right amount
The kind that goes pitter pat
The kind that sings white…

Morning Ritual

In first light hours

neither can sleep

tiny presents

tiny presents
make themselves known
in wee hours of night
not the gaudy package kind
with bows and glitter
fake happiness wrapped so…