Category: self transformation
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Voices
When I was a child my conscience would talk in my father’s voice I didn’t recognize self-hate as my own Now I argue with the voices, take ownership and try to change 4-15-25
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Sunrise walking meditation
When light peeks over my neighbor’s roof, I walk in the park, recite the name of God on fingertips, say prayers for the living and the dead. In greening woods, a bird intones, high low, high low, high. From untrimmed shrubs of an empty house a reply comes, high low, high low, high. 4-19-23
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The day before
Today is the day before The first day of revelation’s festival, The day before the flood, The day before roses found their purpose, The day nightingales gathered to Sing of Ancient Beauty in the moonlight. The day before paradise’s garden reappeared. Tomorrow, I will not go to the gym. And will focus on the purpose…
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Run-on sentence memory of Dad
My father dropped me off my first year of college, notebooks, pens, a dictionary and Bible in a cardboard box and a dress shirt I never wore on a hanger my mother packed for church and a suitcase of clothes, I was not an easy child to raise and he was nervous about me going…
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Two lifetimes ago
two lifetimes ago, returning from a lonely hike In mushroom mountains sat under a bush, light rain falling in the yard of a church I did not attend Johnny Cash sang about Sunday morning coming down on the radio of an idling car I left my body unburied, never returned and found a new one…
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Gamer suicide
When he first experienced a random act of kindness, it made him feel warm and when he thought he understood the concept, he tried it on others and soon it was randomness he sought and soon folks did not see him as kind and soon he became an oddity tolerated in polite company and laughed…
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For lack of empathy
I don’t know why, but fifty years on I thought of you, tall lanky friend of my youth, we used to sometimes talk walking home from high school; me bombastic and loud, all full of myself; you quiet, deferential and shy. We never became close; you a confirmed loner me a loner, hidden beneath layers…
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haiku of a fiery tongue
practice kindliness it doesn’t take a flame to burn set a world on fire 4-25-23
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self-hate
My great grandmother was orphaned at three, only child of a widowed Irish immigrant and widowed native American woman. She was baptized in St Anne’s Catholic Church and raised by half-siblings on her father’s side. When she married a Quaker, she was not allowed communion, but still attended mass; sat quietly in the back pew,…
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You are not born a butterfly
You are not born a butterfly …bright and shiney – floating on the wind You were born a worm …crawling in the dirt – devouring, devouring, devouring Before you craved the sky 3-10-25
My husband's poetry 