Poetry

I am not supposed to know details.

Where I came from,

when she died,

what they escaped,

what came before,

or how I came to be

this here now.

and yet to See

the land of a person’s blood

where it leaked from

and where it is going to,

the laylines of a person’s soul

revealed

by means

I don’t understand

and

haven’t “earned”.

a gift given,

a blessing issued,

presenting me with a job

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,