How often do we witness one another in our grief? Were we raised in a culture that honors the tremendous aloneness that comes with the anguish of digesting that which …

Circle of Grief

I see you. I am here.
How is it we see others? And how and when do we feel seen? How we attend to the world, is sometimes how the world will reflect itself back to …

Waning
There were once words. A comfortable stringing together to make sense of what would otherwise be too chaotic. Over time a loss of these little stitches that thread comfort. A …

Mapmaking
I happened upon a map making process to the sanctuary that is my heart. An undertaking rather arduous, holy, and tender. The craft is one that requires humbling revisions to …

Resistance No More
I am not an untended house. Not a place of dreams that will sit and wither. Not something for later. Or one day. I am not a project. Not a …

Soft Skinned
I couldn’t explain what it feels like to endure I can only feel it. The feeling of soft skin that is more vulnerable than I want to withstand. The feeling …

Desert Quiet
Desert hymns adjust the film of inexactness that often plague a city girl’s reasoning. Precious bellows of wind resonate through a canyon and her fine branches of Palo Verde and …

Prayer Seven Hundred Something
Ready or not, death can come when we don’t expect it. (I could not sing because it touched my heart too heavy. Sound pierced a balloon of tears. For loss. …

On the book chapters I may never write
In no particular order they would be: My child is beautiful and sometimes she looks like Jack Nicholson in The Shining in photographs that I take, and this entertains me …

in our silence
We are a circlequietly surrounding life,her unknown,her precious impermanence. Sacred few with tentacles that reach beyond;those who have chosen to stay in which to feel a mystery saturated with subtlety, with power. …