I Am Tired

It’s been a long year and I am tired. I have this sinking feeling, a familiar one, that the fire is going out. I see how other people burn and I remember that flame in myself. When I was younger, it seemed like I was constantly ablaze. And now life has slowed me down; which burns in a different way. I am afraid of growing old quietly. There is as much pain and injustice in the world now as there was when I took these pictures over a decade ago; but I am gentler now. … More I Am Tired

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Every Other Line: An Ode to Type One

Every other line of the dialogue in my head
Is criticism both of me and from me
Not quite good enough or strong enough yet
Attempting to make something lovely
Afraid of myself, haunted more by my shadow
Unaffected by most of the horrors
Inner critic is raging, impatient and thorough
Yet always the champion of others … More Every Other Line: An Ode to Type One

To Isaac:

To Isaac: “I love someone that was never born.” I saw that on a keychain that must have been made by a parent as empty as I am. I should have seen your face today, but instead I am using a due date calculator to try to convince myself that maybe I got the due date wrong. I never actually had one, not really. Maybe it’s tomorrow or maybe I missed it already. Even mothers who have lost their child have selfish mom moments. Well, mine is happening right now. … More To Isaac:

The Broken Lighthouse

It’s like the light is out in the lighthouse and I don’t know how to navigate my life anymore. I never had the lighthouse to look at before, so why does it matter if the light is out now? How can someone that I never met make such a difference in my ability to make decisions? I don’t know. I just know that something inside of me changed when I saw those pink lines and I can’t go back. … More The Broken Lighthouse

Wind-Up Toy

When suddenly, one day, it was quiet her mind
She heard a strange thumping noise, familiar and kind
A wind-up toy that found herself suddenly unwound
Could hear, or feel, an almost undetectable sound
Pounding in a chest more used to hearing cymbals clang
The toy began to weep. Through tears of sorrow she sang,
“I have often wondered what it felt like to be real
But I had no idea how much it would hurt to feel
How can I keep singing with this pain inside my chest?
Will anyone sing with me this song of brokenness?” … More Wind-Up Toy

Just Standing

Are you ever just standing? I don’t mean leaning leisurely under the shade of a giant tree; or at the base of some magnificent thing that you are observing. I mean just standing. Like you are at the edge of a bridge, a sturdy one – not the kind you are afraid will give way beneath you, but you don’t cross over. Or like you got to the top of the slide and just stood there, looking at it. … More Just Standing

A Hike in Unfamiliar Woods

Grief is a hike in the woods on a trail you’ve never taken before. There is a pounding fear of being completely lost interrupted by the relief of seeing a trail marker. The path ahead is long; so long in fact, that you might never see the end. But there are signs along the way to remind you that you are on the right track, moving in the right direction. Coping with loss is more about looking for the trail markers than it is about seeing the end. … More A Hike in Unfamiliar Woods