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Tag Archives: poetry

The Heartache that Doesn’t Fade

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Heartache doesn’t soften over time.

The pain grows roots.

It takes residence in the soul.

We journey forward, learning as we go.

The heartache gives us perspective and deeper understanding.

It becomes part of who we are.

In that open, vulnerable space is where our love resides.

Love never fully understood in a space that will never fade. Dogwood Blossoms


Quiet Moments

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Quiet Moments

Today is a good day for quiet moments

Quiet music,

Patient thoughts,

Simple food.


Today is a good day to reflect.

What is important?

What do I value most?

What nourishes my soul?


Today is a good day to let go

Of clutter,

Of darkness,

Of fear,

Of noise.


Today is a good day to be open.

To possibility,

To love,

To everything that surrounds us,

Even the things we do not know.


Today is the solstice.

It is a good day to carry on




That tomorrow will bring a little more light.

What cannot be contained in words

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What cannot be contained in words

There are so many words to write.

Sometimes I write with urgency. Sometimes I write without much intention.

And sometimes, I just can’t manage to write at all.

It is not for lack of ideas.

The ideas are brewing.

They are moving through my mind, weaving in and out of experience.

They are finding a place they fit.

Larger themes emerge:

Interdependence. Intimacy. Self-Love.

Letting go. Simplicity. Trusting the Universe.

These are huge, HUGE, themes.

They fit everywhere!

They are not contained.

Not in sentence form, or even syllables.

Not in letters, or even paragraph.

The provoke story.

They call for metaphor.

They push me to write, perhaps in a way I haven’t before.

And in time, they become part of me.

My Vulnerability

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I’m beginning to notice, something strange that happens

When others fail to listen to me.

I get angry.

Like a little child.

Afraid of the crises that might ensue.

“But wait! I see something wrong!

Please! Please listen to me!”


There are some days that it happens all around.

Others are too busy and overbooked to listen.

Then the kids won’t listen.

Then the dogs.

Then the cat– wait, never mind the cat isn’t biologically capable of listening to human.


And then among my children,

is my inner child.



Wanting to stomp her feet

And say,

I just need someone to care about what I have to say.

It gets pretty ugly.


The best I can do is treat everyone to ice cream.

Have a tea party.

Invite all those who won’t listen.

Shed a tear or two.

And carry on.