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Stories Return Us Home


Stories Return Us Home

If I could write a tomorrow,

it would be wider than but include the wounds we have worn…

it would include my wounds,

it would announce my wounds,

it would put my wounds on display so that others too

could include, announce and

display their wounds,

as we move into tomorrow.


If I could write of a tomorrow,

it would have less denial, less hiding, less pretending…

By naming and sharing our wounds,

we would weave something so bountifully amazing,

taking us wider than the wounds we have ever worn.


If I could write a tomorrow,

I would use my wounds

and all that I have learned,

to springboard into creating a world where

community and connection is paramount,

from birth to death,

woven into the very ways we value the

ways we spend our days

and deeper into the way we view

our very selves.


If I could write a tomorrow,

humans would not be commodities

or things.

Worth would not be earned but known.

Sharing would be common place and

love would be given,

not bought or sold in the guise of

consumerism and exploitive capitalism.


This may be my soap box, but it doesn’t feel like an

impossible dream.

When I

slow down


take a look

towards pain and suffering.


I look at it in the eye,

feel pain burrow into the

caverns of my heart.

As I do

something widens

and deepens.

Something called Love


takes it all,

filling me with a sweetness of now that

exists at the very same time as

sorrow, sometimes in the very same place.

Reminding me another way is

indeed possible.


I write of another way…

where we know and

live knowing that,

in our shared plight of

being human,

there is Love.

The joy, mystery, pain, and

beauty of

being human.


I write of


being learned from the

wounds of yesterday.

Creating an amazing

tomorrow to be a part of.

I commit


to staying with

these wounds, honoring these wounds,

taking responsibility for these wounds,

and the wounds that my foremothers and forefathers

were born from,

have created,

which birthed me

and which I have birthed.


I write of a now,

inviting all to share

unique dreams and unique pains.

To share without needing to fix or problem solve

but to celebrate.

A recognition that each

story is sacred and powerful

as we return Home.


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