we have no choice

we must walk this path

in skin and bone 

not of our choosing

and learn to love

our blessings

learn to move in grace

leaning in to shortcomings 

and dull, aging eyes

and thick thighs 

the wrinkles and lines 

and soft bellies 

and thinning hair

that all tell our story

and remind us that time

is slipping away from us 

with each breath

reminding us to be

and treasure all 

we only have now

another cup

And then they come again

flowing free and clear

like the water we float upon

swiftly now, singing.


And my coffee cup grows cold

lost from lingering hands that do not

tremble with fear in choice

growing stronger, now with grace.


So I will read more words

and write them on my heart

where they will grow still warmer

as I drink them down, sweetly.



Windows open to great

the cool air and there

I am just a little lost

in hope. That somehow

thing that makes me

find a way to step

back from fear.  If again

I find my chest should tighten

I know things are like

a seed under the ground

that seems so dark. Doubting

that it could grow into



I remember when the trees

closed in around me

long ago. I would have

should have run

away so far but didn’t know

to trust myself

to know the truths

I have always known

you leave in me…


I also know the weight

of obligation pressing in

and taking all the air

my lungs require. And the

feeling of fault at faulty

choices made. To do my part

and carry the burden

I chose to lift not knowing

the weight of choosing

or that I’d be lifting alone…


This time I trust

your easy air inside my lungs

to be the truth I know

I know I know I see

the dead shell cracked

and life pressing forward

not yet in light.  Alive in earth

and see the way it reaches

out to find the surface

where it can bloom

in sunshine and shadow.



starting again

words come with less rush

these days they sneak up on me

and take breath away


without pen in hand

I struggle to remember

now deeper written


seasons change our time

sometimes, the work of our hands

but my heart remains



finding this

this small thing is

blowing in the air

warm and golden

it quickens in my belly

and flutters in my chest

where it rests

like the soft feather

of some strange bird

that falls to the ground

waiting to be noticed

and put in my pocket


A song

When awoken

I rise to greet you

Your warm rays shining

Your soft grass under my feet

Even when I forget you

There are birdsongs 

Sent to remind me


I told you

you hold my heart

but I think perhaps

this is not entirely true

you see, I have

the suspicion that

you may just

be my heart

for I have felt

your steady beat

and flushing warmth

deep within my chest

for just as long as

I can remember