Beauty. Growth. Enjoyment.

I am buried deep in the darkness of the earth. The ground and all the creatures in it are my home. Rain water washes in and around and beneath me causing me to spit and choke. I am lonely, bitter, and afraid. The rain has bloated and swollen me. I feel pain. I feel like… Continue reading Beauty. Growth. Enjoyment.


Vulnerable. Poetic.

I am a writer. More precisely, I am a poet. I always have been. 11-year-old me would stay up well past lights-out hiding under a blanket with a flashlight, paper, and pen to write. My friends were all reading Tiger Beat Magazine, the Babysitter's Club series and anything by Judy Blume. I was reading Chaucer's… Continue reading Vulnerable. Poetic.