Writing samples

A Penny, A Prayer, A Pardon 

I throw my head back when I laugh 

Mouth full with memories realessed into the air like pennies, prayers to a fountain and a long released god 

Sometimes I get knot between my shoulder and my spine 

An indent from the rocks on my back that all the women in my line have had to carry

Sometimes crushes crush you so tight they turn the dust in you to diamonds 

Forcing you to stand on legs you thought society had long since amputated 

I have a lust for the lovers of my past lives 

I sometimes catch glimpses of their spirits in the eyes of strangers and go home carrying a weep inside my chest 

We are but the gravel of the Gods 

Lining the highway between heaven and hell, glimpsing the doors but having no desire to mobilize 

What does it mean to be a threat? 

Quiet sonar in your bones honing in on your enemies 

Jealousy, guilt, and perceptions of power are your first targets.

I wonder what it would be like to live in a society that instead of amassing body counts focused on extending the lives of honey bees.

There are moments when you ask someone to kiss you but what you’re really saying is “is anyone capable of carrying love inside them that extends past a lifetime? Have I loved you before?”

Mother (Home..) 

Your mother says “It’s time.” And you rise and slowly open to the world.

You are a balance between choice and strife, 

between life and living, 

between a hole and holy ground. 

Mother (Home.)

She is the life and you the limb, mingling matter across time

Mother (Home.)

Relationships once you jump ship, separating “us” into “her” and “I”,

Are a delicate balance between turning heathens heaven bound and saints into sinners 

Mother (Home.)

Bound by destiny 

Steady praying the devil won’t get the best of me

She has one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake. 

Mother (Home.) 

Can you make a miracle out of a Sunday call? 

Mother (Home.) 

Sacriment tucked between the silence and hidden within the dial tone? 

Making small talk to gently cover big feelings and the hum of “I love you.” (in progress)

Mother(Home.) 

I don’t think it’s by accident that every culture has it’s own way of saying mother. 

“Mom” “Mommy” “Maaaa!” “Mutter” “Moeder” “Me (maay)” “Madre” “Indung (inndoong)”

Mother is the only word I know that can be a question, a statement, a stalemate, a prayer. 

“Mom?” Translates “Where are you?” 

“Maaaaa!” Translates to “I’m over here!” 

“Mommy” “I’m hurt” 

“Mutter” “i love you” 

“Mom.” “We’re done here.” 

“Maaay” “Help me.” 

How mothers are often are our first shelter from the storm

And sometimes the first storm we know.  

You are a Miracle.

On days like these,

There are moments, 

Ones that fall like deep belly sighs,

And roll like waves.

They are shocks of memory,

Distant aches reminiscent of distant loves, 

Feathering the edges of your brain with discontent and romance. 

One days like these,

Sorrow is a familiar hug haunting your limbs, 

It knows you by your true name,

And is not the kind of friend you turn your back on,

Instead you must turn in. 

Let your heart come out of your mouth like coals cooking salmon on a campfire, 

All survival, sustenance, and salt. 

The universe will bend its forehead to you,

And ask you how you loved, not measure you by your hate.

So please darling: love!

Love as though their last kiss did not feel like your last breath.

Love as if you think life to be simple,

wrap the chord of it around your finger, until your tears are no longer gallons, but merely a splash within a thimble.

Let love make you nimble.

Let it let you forgive what your heart, through grace, has already forgotten.

When you discover you are not wanted in a space you thought was home,

You cannot build a house within a human. 

There limbs can’t hold, the tinder within your bones.