Darling Damned….

There is a relationship I have fostered with wildflowers, there in a field, all along the banks of my river… we have been seen lying languidly for hours.

And I have never seen a sunrise that didn’t steal my breath, or leave me a peacefulness that stayed within my breast.

I have never met a canyon rim that didn’t seem to say, ” I’m a place for letting go, for starting over, and for learning how to stay”

And in the night sky you can see my remembering eye…

When the rain falls I feel the tears’ spilling from YOUR eye… and I know by their intensity if it was intended as laughter, or a cry… to howl through the trees- and bring me to my knees in aching longing to heal you. In those moments sometimes, I pretend you’re spilling out and on to my skin so I can feel you.

In the darkness, cloaked by a cloudy sky… I meet my maker, and look her in the eye… I stand taller now than she planned… and I am still her child, no longer the darling damned.

What I Know

Boundaries don’t keep other people out, they fence you in. Life is messy, that’s  how we’re made. So you can waste your life drawing lines or you can live your  life crossing them. Here’s what I know. If you’re willing to throw caution to the wind and  take a chance, the view from the other side… is spectacular!



Sweet Release

In the eye of a child you can see a snowflake for the first time, and in the eye of my grandfather I saw one for the last time.

One time… that is all it takes… to understand the delicacy of our very being. The way the wind carries us from one place to the next when we are made of ice and stardust.

I see your once well loved soul whose wheel has stopped spinning and feet that have turned to rust… and I want to, NO! I need to BREATHE life back into you.. let you see my mind’s eye… let the healing of my love and laughter lift you-

Altruism may seem silly to some, and that’s fair.. but I see these souls as deeply deaf and dum. I offer you a solution to the polution of your empty head… come find some rare peace nestled neath the surface… give me sweet release. I surrender… no more the pretender.


Wayward Traveller

We used to do this thing with our hands… a sorta kinda dance in darkness… where our fingers would trace, interlope and lace….

We used to kind of laugh even at the sound of our own silly voices… we challenged each other, and inspired better choices…

Your hands reach for things unseen in a place between wakefulness and a dream.

I hate the furrow of your brow when you are lost to us all traveling your mindscape to places your heart can’t escape.

Your eyes shine brighter than my midnight sun if you let it. Please my wayward traveller, don’t forget it.

Take my ticket and keep it safe. Take my hope for us and keep it sacred. Take my love for you, and know it is true.

Oh, wayward traveller understand my bohemian heart, know it like you know my hand… trust it like it is as sure as dry land for a drowning sailor.

And you, my Wayward traveller should know, too, that I am here waiting for you. And waiting with me is a promise of comfort, of cool water, and clean bed.. where a soul as tread upon as yours or mine may rest a weary head.

Midnight In The Garden Of…

Before the dawn breaks the sky and interrupts this perfect night… know this,

I had fun. I laughed at you, and with you, and a lot at myself because I am so ridiculous.

When daylight comes, I will move from this spot, and find another… and I will remember how I felt last night, and that inner voice will sing a song that stings less.

After dusk, I will dance in my garden with my childrens’ laughter ricocheting off the earth into my heart… and I will know I am what I needed to be all along.

I will understand them, and they will look at me with perfect trust and know that I am the first and last place to come for kisses, and for shelter.

There is no room for the cold world outside our window to touch us in the home we make together. My sons will grow in my garden tall as trees, and inside them will be the roots of a love so great they will only ever have to touch the ground to feel it… to trust in it, and to greet the world with purpose and kindness.

My daughter, my beautiful, complicated, silly, exposed nerve of a girl with big blue eyes, and soft dewy skin will know only strength, and decency, and have perfect faith in herself. She is the change the world wishes to see. I know this because she as all the love in my heart, and feminine wisdom that carries on from the women who come before, and we share their struggle, and triumph. She has a third eye where she can see into the meaning of a man, and know its intention. She has a soft voice that when heard aloud, opens a portal to place of philosophy, humility, and pride. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is perfection personified…

In the gloaming when these 3 sheep are asleep, I will call to you … and tell you that I channeled you here.. that I carried you in my heart, and that I could not have done it today without you. I will tell that my feet got tired. That I remembered your recipe for chicken and noodles, and that I wish you had been here to remind me to be patient with close minded, fear mongering, or as some call her, My Mother. I would have liked to remember that one today.  I will sleep with your song in my heart, because the morning will come again, and I will wait for them all in my garden.  Thank you, nanna for sending the butterflies to me, thank you for sending your love to me… and send some more to her.. she is sad and lost today, too… one day, she will hear you.


The Things Between…

The hours that tick so slowly past us,

The way the rain pelts away on my window pane,

The way you curl up beside me seeking comfort

The time you said something so surprising I laughed out loud at you…

The way my hands found their way into yours…

How we can’t connect, how we can’t stop trying to connect.


Speak Not, Hear Not, See Not

So as not to be seen, I stepped so slowly, with such purpose.

So as not to be heard, I held my breath, and let my fingers stretch forward

So as not to disturb you I have silenced my Siren Call. Making port in one particular harbor, nearby.

So to keep moving I have pulled my anchors, and am readying my vessel to fly.

I have the unspoken, the broken, the unfinished cup that left me all full up. I have our song to carry me when you are long gone.

I have the horizon laid out in front of me, and a promise of eternity.



A letter to my son…

I remember the day you were born. I held you in my arms and marveled at how I could ever have made something this perfect. And every single day since then I have been in awe of you.

You occupy physical space here on earth, but you are far from earthly, my son. I used to watch you looking at the world and wish I could see it through your eyes, see what you see because you have always looked at things so differently.

It was clear when you were very little that you were special, and not in the all children have gifts and talents kind of way. Something more. Something the world hasn’t ever seen before.

You know so much, and I know you believe there is little left your mother can teach you. But you are still so young.

Daynen, there is always room for joy, in literally everything, the trick is to take it with you. You get to carry it in your heart, the way I hope you will carry me in your heart when have grown and moved up and moved on. I know you will be the kid that wont call much, and its ok. Never not for one single moment of any day will I let you forget that I loved you enough to let you be who you are, even when you are away.

When it comes to growing up, there are a few things to remember… make sure your socks match and are clean. Sort your laundry into batches, wear a sweater when its cold. Floss your teeth. Eat real meals, not just snacks. Hold the door for women, and children. Always rise from a table when your date gets up to “powder her nose”. Be patient even when you dont feel like it. Speak softly when you are angry.  Hold hands with a girl when you walk beside her and dont let go until she does. Always do what you say you will. Keep your promises. Dont say things you dont mean. Ever.

When you find a girl you like, you will ask her father for permission to date her. You will be respectful of her mother. When you are invited to dinner with her parents, please lay you napkin on your lap, and offer to help clear the table and clean up. ALWAYS offer to help when you can.

When you are given the chance to dance, dammit, dance! Every time. I hope you will be the kind of young man who will look for the girl sitting by herself and ask her to dance, because you will have made her day, and that is so important. Be the man I know you are.

Smile at strangers.

Work is something you can’t escape. So bring your best self to it, rise to challenge yourself. And be wise with money, it is a gift to know and understand the importance of a job well done, and being paid to do it.

Never hit a child, or a woman. If you are ever hit, you have the right to defend yourself, your loved ones, and your belongings, but never raise a hand to be cruel to anything. You wont like who you become.

Know right now, that people speak unkindly to people who stand out like you do. They’ll call you names, and it can hurt, we get to choose if we believe these things. Choose to know better, because you are smarter.

Be proud of where you come from. You were born with such great love. Don’t forget that your parents were young and pretty dumb and that you have taught them both so much. And we are always learning, and I hope when you become a father you remember that you will always be learning too. Never forget to stop and say I love you. And I am proud.

And when I gone and you are missing something silly I would say to you, or the songs I sang to help you sleep… know that I loved everything about knowing you, and being your mom was the best thing I did every day of your life.







My feet don’t land on the ground….

Words you’ve said to me, the only sound.

I hold a peice of it in my hand…

The memory runs through me like sugar, like sand…

And in the cold cellar… I see it in her eyes, and I remember…

We laughed together then, so easily. Drank together then, so naturally.

The bitteroot was planted in our garden- we turned the soil up, and we kept our hearts afloat.

Time is a curious thing, it seems the garden we planted is neverending.

I see your petals outstreched reaching for the sun…

And I smile, because, my sweet sweet friend you are not the only one.

Apathy’s History

In the quiet of the evening, balance is restored- An ancient wound is bound cured. We look op on ourselves like this- It’s an ethereal place… A time of volition, It’s a smooth transition from one to the other and then again- We know not from whence we come! Like Gypsies we gather round the stones and tell the stories as we’ve    heard them from those who came before us- We try to remember if  ever there were a time we were not so lost- A generation of women leading us to a place we call equality- Instead what we’ve found is Oppression To Economic Recession Degeneration of generations, Less education, Ignorance igniting! Ours is the Bush burning! We’ve less time for new learning-
Our weakened potential for earning… We all play a part— but social apathy is tearing us apart!!!!!!!!