Tricky one, she is.
"Look, it's something
new and cool,
don't look at your core,
don't do the one thing

In the midst of
a frozen winter landscape
I choose to thaw my own heart
I choose to take a step

It's the end
the story is over.
There will be no more worry.
There will be no more angst.
I'm sorry you couldn't find another way.
I'm sorry life got so hard.
I'm sorry you couldn't see beyond tomorrow.
I'm sorry to let you go.
I'll miss your sense of humor.
I'll miss your amazing photos.
I'll miss watching you finish our garden path.
I'll miss your playful spirit.
I'll miss your tender soul.
I'll miss my son.
I'm proud to have been your Mom.
I'm proud of the man you were.
I'd take another day of worry

The song playing
the one I used to hear
when the stress was at
the max
and it helped me
remember to
Breathe

Sudden sound
something flashing
at the edge of vision
then climbing high
into the sky
suspended for a moment
then diving down
a hummingbird
a pair of hummingbirds
at play

The brightness
of a flower
just before dusk
somehow seems
to glow
and say, "I'm here"
in the fading light

There are times when growth is right at the surface. Our resistance to seeing the truth can create incredible stress and pain if we allow it. What follows is a series of poems I wrote in one such moment.

A couple poems inspired by our visitors this morning...

“We have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit.”
—Audre Lorde

No, I'm not talking possession
or anything Satanic.
I'm talking about those demons
that swirl around in your head
saying you aren't good enough
or don't know enough,
the ones that make you feel like
you can't breathe,
you could jump out of your skin,
you might just go crazy.

Does the fear I feel inside myself
have anything to do with you
or is it really about something inside of me
something which colors my view

I'm starting to think I project
these feelings upon your soul.
The truth, is likely more difficult,
I think I own this hole.

So what's the real risk in knowing?
What I'm unwilling to see
when I start to worry and fret?
What's going on in little old me?

I see my own darkness reflected
in the depth of your beautiful eyes.
To think it must belong to you
is really my secret's own lies.

The moment of panic,
the moment I realize
I've been baring my soul
and placing it out into the world.
Anyone could read what I write
and know me
better than most people
who are close to me.
It takes sheer will
to continue down this path.
I feel as though I'm
wandering
feeling