The poetry of everyday life.

We Don’t Shoot Our Wounded

Anger molten as the Earth’s core and just as deep. Cooled by a remark made by a woman I had just met. Betrayed too she was angry enough she said “to want to smack them.” But sighing she said “We don’t shoot our wounded.” And just like that I was reminded of the unacknowledged agony […]

Lies I Have Told

It’s OK. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t bother me. I’m OK. Nothing’s the matter. I don’t mind. I’d like to. I didn’t say that. I didn’t do it. I didn’t mean it that way. No. Yes. I did do it. I would never do that. I’m fine.

Which?

The blip on the horizon which slowly comes into horrifyingly clear view or the sudden flash, annihilation without warning. My father lingered for several days giving his children time. My stepfather was a phone call from the police in the middle of the night. Which? The agony of waiting or finality without farewell.

The Most Bitter Lesson

I cannot save him. I cannot save anyone. I could not save my mother. Or my father. Or my siblings. I have helped people along the way. The neighbor with cancer who needed someone to step in. The students, full of self-doubt, who needed someone to believe in them. The family member with a mental […]

What I’m Supposed to Say

I’m taking time to heal. I’m taking care of my own needs. I’m letting go of the past. I’m learning to love myself. I’m focusing on the future. I’m making sure I get out. I’m leaning on my friends. I’m taking up new hobbies. I’m finding out who I am now. I’m allowing myself to […]

What I Am Not Supposed to Say

Twenty-four years ago, three months before my mother died, I put my grandmother into a nursing home. It was the one of the two things she never wanted. The other was to have cancer.  Instead, it was my mother, her daughter, who would die of it. My grandmother died simply, of old age. After leaving […]