One Day. One Story.
A Lifetime of Healing.
One.
A story among many.
Darkness, anger, and survival,
memories bleed through,
flickering from one memory to the next
turning the mundane,
every day into a nightmare.
I am ripped from the present
to the past of
anguish and despair
secrets that are
buried within,
the muffled cries
forcing the silence.
I am quiet no more.
I will no longer keep this secret.
I will no longer be trapped in
yesterday’s nightmare.
Holding Space: What it Means
I get frustrated and angry when people don’t hold space for me after I have shared a hard truth with them. What is wrong with them? I needed them, and they were not there. Is it they don’t know what holding space means? Perhaps, so let’s clear that question up. Read on.
Who, indeed? A Poem About Reaching Out
It sounds so simple. Call someone when the darkness creeps in, but it isn’t simple. My poem, “Who, indeed?” is about the difficulty of calling someone. Who can help me when the onslaught of darkness brings me to my knees?
Overtaken: A Poem About Depression
I wrote “Overtaken” to describe what succumbing to a depressive valley feels like. I have always found the written word, especially poetry, much safer than speaking. Writing provides me the space to process my world.