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Grandmother. I hold my morning coffee and call for her, quiet voice in my head. Grandmother. She comes. She’s sitting today on my right, crouching, actually, a favorite posture of hers. A cigarette dangles from incredibly calloused fingers, they are … Continue reading
Photo credit: Ratha Grimes
In the morning I sit cross legged with my coffee. In the rain, or the dark, or the ethereal dawn – inhaling the staggering scent of lilies. My counselor said, “watch the places where you go UnConsious,” and my own mind filled in the rest, “because that’s what’s killing you.” Continue reading
Photo Credit: screenpunk
I stood on the edge of the cliff, knowing that to continue my journey, to fulfill my life’s purpose, I had to step onto the tightrope stretched across the chasm to the far side.
And I could not move.
For four years I teetered on the brink, paralyzed, face to the wind, tears running down my cheeks, KNOWING that I could not walk that tightrope. Continue reading
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