May 2013
1 post
Grief
Grief, you are a stranger, knocking at our doors
You aren’t welcome, but you’re making yourself known
January 2013
3 posts
Love is toxic
Love, it is toxic
I’ve let it in and held on tightly, given my all, fisted and ready to love
Love, it is toxic
I’ve opened wide my chest, only to be compounded down to scraps
Love, it is toxic
I’ve put it away, down the chute, forgetting all of my heart that went with it
Love, it is needed
My breathe is waiting, my eyes are closed, waiting for love to return
Love, it is...
1 tag
When the pines are forest green
They don’t always stay green
Sometimes yellow becomes familiar
As hidden shadows hollow underneath
We find whispers from past
Advice, memories, adventures
A reason to gravitate, a reason
As if we could actually hear it
There comes a time to wake
But to what shall we wake to
When all that’s known is illusion
And illusion may not even know...
June 2011
1 post
March 2011
1 post
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Jean-Dominique Bauby wrote The Diving Bell and the Butterfly after a car accident left him in a coma and he woke up paralyzed everywhere except his eyes. One of his eyes got infected and sown up. With one eye left, a speech therapist helped this man communicate with one wink yes and two winks no. Jean-Dominique Bauby was the head editor of Elle magazine one day; the next day he was a vegetable. It...
