Writing is hard. As I wrote those words I paused for a moment and my inner critic doubted my ability to write this post. Sounds crazy, I know, but imposter syndrome is something I struggle with every time I sit down to write and place my fingers on the keyboard. It seems that writing does … Continue reading Happy #TeachWritetober!
An orbiting moon Beckons the tide to follow Lifting itself high.
In the small coastal village of Tarpon Springs, Florida they dive for sponges. A practice the Greek population touts with bronze statues of men in diving suits, knife attached to hip. Some worry about the sponge population concerned with over harvesting. They are assured the sponges are in good hands. Cutting a few inches above … Continue reading Sponges of Tarpon Springs #SOL18
Forgiveness, unsteady, is a glowing ember resting on the wings of cupped hands. Lips pursed in a kiss it is cast off with the gentle blowing words, I am sorry, lifted on a current of hope.
The sound of the band played and she danced. Head bobbing to the sound; she gripped her nuk like a horn. Lips pursed she played and played and played. Lost in the tune - one with the sound. Eyes closed she dreams of one day playing in the band. She can not wait. Who needs … Continue reading To Play from the Heart #SOL18
She said, “I’ve become so damaged that when someone wants to give me what I deserve I have no idea how to respond.” Respond with love. In all that you do love is the only response. Be passionate. Be curious. Be courageous. Do all with love in your heart. Let love be the light that … Continue reading Respond with Love #SOL18
Son, as I watch you grow, I see myself reflected in your eyes. Memories of thirteen: Twigs for arms. Sticks for legs. Not yet ninety-eight pounds. Short. Feeling, being small. Looked over - bypassed. Picked for nothing. The pain and comfort of solitude. Not good enough for anything save the strength Clara needed to put … Continue reading It is Enough to Love You #SOL18
Oak trees eclipse an afternoon sun. Shadows dapple the ground and dance. My mother fans out a red-checkered sheet - the cloth parachuting to the grass. I jump from a swing leaping to a 18th century stonewall composed by hands long dead - rebel hands that constructed America. Landing on the lush blades of grass I … Continue reading Living as Stones #SOL18
Experience spatters in traces and lines onto the canvas of my life like cigarette tar effused through lungs that, given enough time, will heal. These black rivulets -- thick and thin -- erode carve spaces dig in and leaves a rich sediment from which I can scrape up enough of myself to offer it back. … Continue reading I Don’t Talk about Blue #SOL18
What if I told you we were meant to be? What if I told you you were more beautiful than the sun? What if I told you your voice was the most important sound I have ever heard? “But,” you would say, “how do you know?” “But,” you would say, “there is nothing special about … Continue reading But #SOL18