My soul work is this
That I no longer hope to be a saint That I no longer think you want me to be That …
That I no longer hope to be a saint That I no longer think you want me to be That …
i. my mind chews its way through each of my lessons spitting back what the animal dislikes savoring its own …
Abandoned farmhouse, graying outbuildings. In your final winter, you stood with empty, cracking branches to tell us plain that your …
coming in the house with sand between your toes or mud covering your boots, you may pause by my old …
2019 was a year that was filled with loss for me and my family – a dear aunt, my step …
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a …
walking through woods in bare moonlight – shade over shade, black within black – I see what cannot be seen …
is love — which is not really fair to say, for the three intertwine when you sit here, ready, and …