Time, Untethered

Her hand is in mine; clammy because it is hot on these streets that smell of burgers, oil, and urine. She tries to lace her fingers with mine. I pull away slightly, aware of the implications. “My mother didn’t like holding my hand,” she tells the therapist casually. “Sweaty palms triggered her.” She is old … Continue reading Time, Untethered

If a Mother Falls to Her Knees, Does She Even Make a Sound?

Some days, like today, I wish I could just step out of it all just for a moment, long enough to catch the breath I lost somewhere between becoming Woman and becoming Mother. Some days, to be Mother is to press flat against the packed mud I left indented in my rock bottom. Some days, … Continue reading If a Mother Falls to Her Knees, Does She Even Make a Sound?

Sun Year, Moon Year, and Me

The sun and moon fight above me. One circles me while I circle the other. And they disagree about time and space and light and make me wonder which of them is right. I was born after the stars had come out and the fires burned. The moon, just beginning to cycle back down in … Continue reading Sun Year, Moon Year, and Me

The Place Where I Belong

She calls me, breathless. "It was amazing," she panted. "I loved it. I was made for this, Ima. I need it." Patched up by the threads trailing behind her gathering into a seam sewn with every fall and knotted with each triumphant rise, my lungs fill. My hands slow their spasms. My head sweeps the … Continue reading The Place Where I Belong

They Cannot Gun Us All

They've come to kill us, these poisoned hearts. They've come to take our innocent and young. They've come to cut down our wise and wizened. They've come to slash our soft and pure. They seep into our waters across oceans and fields of tranquility. They march in step to a raging scream a hatred pulsing … Continue reading They Cannot Gun Us All

Curtain Call

My thoughts running through the maze I hold inside my pounding skull keep me company reminding me when my eyes search for love for understanding for hope I am not alone.   I am tied to the whispers the whipping post I toss over one shoulder and the never-ending scorn scraping my open wounds.   … Continue reading Curtain Call

The Tides we Don’t Follow

We are first man and woman. We have created ourselves from the ribs of non-believers. We have no original sin to dictate our morals, no code passed down for generations. The string we hang from frays with every step towards the edge of this puppet stage. And this step, this leap away from tradition, this will cut the cord.

On Open Houses and Choice in a Foreign Tongue

It is early in the morning. She rests her head against my shoulder, twisting her body around in an attempt to find a comfortable position. I sit as still as I can, knowing she will turn again and again until we finally get there. I’ve learned to be the rock she circles; forever keeping me … Continue reading On Open Houses and Choice in a Foreign Tongue

Mourning my Son with no Name

The flutters intensify every year as we light the last candle. Eight flames burning is the signal; the moment we start counting down the week until our baby’s birthday, three days before his death. This year, my womb contracted wildly with the news of another boy torn from his mother too early… too violently. I held my … Continue reading Mourning my Son with no Name